Today was my birthday, and I had turned eighteen. In our family, we don’t celebrate birthdays, but it’s common to give greetings and best wishes. I was waiting for messages from friends, but some of the people close to my heart remained silent.
After eating Sehri and praying, I went back to sleep. When I woke up, the first thing I did was check my phone screen—there were no messages. A slight sadness filled my heart, but I convinced myself that maybe someone would remember later in the day.
At seven in the morning, I left for the academy. I got on the bus and reached Rawalpindi, where I learned something new. But my mind was somewhere else. Then suddenly, I received a message from my parents:
“Today is your birthday. There was no electricity, but we still cooked something and prayed for you.”
There was also a picture attached—dim light glowing in the dark, with a simple meal made by my mother placed nearby. That simplicity, that love… it filled my heart with emotions. I immediately called them and could only say, “Thank you!”
But a silent hope still remained. Again and again, I kept checking my phone screen, waiting for a special message. A friend who always called me his brother, who celebrated his own birthday with great excitement… maybe he was busy, or maybe he just forgot.
Did he really forget? Or was it something else? My heart kept asking, but there was no answer.