Love wasn’t supposed to feel like this.At least, that’s what I told myself as I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, staring at the reflection of a woman I barely recognized. My hair was neat, my makeup carefully done, my dress chosen with care. From the outside, I looked like someone about to celebrate a beautiful evening. But inside, I felt a hollow ache—the same ache I had been carrying for months, maybe years.I pressed my lips together and whispered, “Maybe tonight will be different.”That was always the hope, wasn’t it? That he’d finally see me, finally remember why we fell in love in the first place. I clung to that fragile hope even when his words cut sharp, even when his silences grew colder. Tonight was his birthday. I had baked him a cake from scratch, though he had laughed at my last attempt, claiming I was a “walking disaster in the kitchen.”Still, I tried again. For him. Always for him.With the cake carefully boxed in my hands, I took the bus across town to his apartment. The city lights glowed against the night sky, and people on the streets laughed and clinked glasses, their joy spilling into the air. I told myself that soon I’d be laughing too, that tonight would remind us both of the love we once had.