On my birthday, I invited all my closest friends, but no one showed up: And when I found out why, I was horrified 

I never thought my 35th birthday would become the worst day of my life. Usually, I didn’t make a big deal out of it, but this time I wanted warmth, coziness, and connection. I decided to celebrate at home: set the table, cook my signature dishes, and invite my dearest friends — people I’d been through fire, water, and sleepless nights with.

We agreed to meet at my place at six. I spent the whole day on my feet — bought fresh groceries, marinated meat, cooked soup, baked a pie, set a beautiful table. Everything looked perfect: candles, music, glasses, napkins, tableware. I even felt a pleasant nervousness, like before a first date.

Exactly at six, I was already standing by the window, glancing at the road. Silence. No one.

“They’re just running late,” I thought, pouring myself a glass of wine. I knew some of them were often late. That was normal. I waited some more. Half an hour passed. No one.

I started to feel uneasy. With every minute, the feeling grew heavier. I checked my phone — no messages, no calls. I wrote in the group chat: “Where are you guys?” Silence. Nothing.

Thoughts started racing through my head: “Did they forget?”, “Maybe they got the date wrong?”, “Did I say or do something wrong?” With every sip of wine, I felt a lump in my throat. It hurt. One by one, I called them — no one picked up. No one at all.

An hour passed. Then another.

I sat at the beautifully set table, facing empty plates, staring into them like they might give me an answer. Suddenly, I felt small and unwanted. With cheerful music still playing from the speakers, it felt like I was part of some cruel prank.

At ten o’clock in the evening, I got up. Silently. I began clearing the dishes, still hoping someone would burst in and shout, “Surprise! We were just joking!” But that didn’t happen. And then I found out why no one came, and I was devastated  See the first comment below 

I was about to go to bed when I got a message from my sister:

“Did you see the news? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you… There was an accident. Their car… they were on their way to you.”

I froze. I went online. The first headlines I saw: “Crash on the highway… three dead…”

Everything blurred before my eyes.

It was them. My friends. They really were on their way to me. In the same car.

That night, I didn’t cry anymore — I just sat in the dark, listening to the dripping tap. The wine remained untouched. I never cleared the plates again. I just stared at them like they were the last attempt to gather everyone together.

And I, selfish as I was, thought they had forgotten me… I never once imagined something bad could have happened to them.