After saying that, do I still have to sit here, pretend everythings fine and smile? No, celebrate without me! Natalie slammed the bedroom door.
Shed woken up far earlier than usual. Even with her eyes closed she remembered: today she turned forty. That number once seemed distant, almost unattainable. Now she sees it every day in the mirrorcrowsfeet around her eyes, a trace of fatigue in her gaze.
Next to her, Stephen lay breathing steadily. He didnt stir when Natalie slipped out from under the blankets. He slept soundly, his interest in her waning a little more each year. She glanced at the clock: 5:30am. Plenty still to do before the guests arrive.
After quietly closing the bedroom door, Natalie headed to the kitchen. Their flat was about to become the meeting point of two worldsher family and Stephens friends. Years had passed and a genuine sense of togetherness never quite formed. Her own friends had faded into the background, while Stephens circle remained the same faces, the same topics, unchanged over the years.
She brewed coffee and opened the fridge. The night before shed been up late marinating meat, chopping vegetables, prepping salad ingredients. Now everything had to become a celebratory spread. Usually theyd order in or go out, but this was a milestone. She wanted the warmth of home, something personal.
Mom, do you have two hundred pounds? a voice called from the kitchen doorway.
Sixteenyearold Jamie stood there, dishevelled but already in jeans and a tee.
What are you doing up so early? Natalie asked, pulling a note from her purse.
We were planning a bike ride, get out early before its too hot. Ill be back this evening, just in time for the party.
Jamie, do you remember what today is?
He thought for a moment, then smiled sheepishly. Of course, its your birthday. I just didnt want to wake you upthought Id wish you later.
And you wont stay and help? Theres still so much to do
He sighed. Mum, we agreed Id be out. But Ill manage. Isnt Blythe coming to help?
Shes still at the cottage with a friend, should be back before six.
Right you always handle everything anyway, he muttered, shrugging.
Natalie exhaled. Shed once prided herself on holding everything together, but now it only tired her.
Go then. Just be home on time, she said.
Jamie planted a quick kiss on her cheek and vanished. A moment later the front door burst open.
By nine oclock Natalie was fully immersed in preparations. The oven warmed for the meat, vegetables waited to be sliced, the cheesecake batter rested under a towel. The air smelled of fresh coffee and herbs.
Morning, Stephen called, appearing in worn trainers. Why are you up so early?
How do you think? she replied coolly. Guests arrive at six. Theres a mountain of work.
You could have slept a bit longer. Its your day, after all. He poured himself a coffee, gave her a quick mintscented kiss. Happy birthday, by the way.
Thanks, Natalie said, hoping for a gesture, a present, or at least a simple, How can I help?
Stephen was already scrolling his phone at the table. Not working today? she asked, cracking eggs.
Day off. Sometimes you have to do something at home he replied without looking up. Sure, Ill help with the table when Im done with the news.
Three hours drifted by. Stephen shuffled into the living room, soon engrossed in a football match, shouting commentary. Natalie kept cutting, mixing, whisking, baking, thinking, Forty years. This is how I meet the day
Exactly at three, the doorbell rang. She wiped her hands on a towel and opened it to find her younger sister Eleanor holding a bouquet of red carnations.
Happy birthday, love! Eleanor said, hugging her. I came early to lend a hand. Still cooking?
Ive been on my feet since sunrise, Natalie replied, ushering her inside. Guests are due at six, but its great to see you.
Wheres the fancy outfit? Eleanor glanced at Natalies plain shirt and faded jeans.
My dress is still in the wardrobe, salads arent sliced, the cake isnt frosted, the table isnt set Natalie sighed.
I see, Eleanor said seriously, peering into the kitchen, then turned back toward the hallway. And Stephen? Is he in the loop?
He is busy.
From the living room came a disgruntled shout: What are you doing, you fool? Get moving!
Fine, Eleanor muttered. Ill get him released.
She strode into the living room, her voice firm as she instructed Stephen, who soon appeared in the kitchen with a sour expression.
What do you need? he grumbled.
Could you set the table in the dining room? Natalie said calmly. Eleanor, could you help him with the dishes, please?
The next few hours passed without major quarrels. Under Eleanors watchful eye, Stephen reluctantly followed instructions, occasionally disappearing into the TV but still managing to get things done. By fivepm the major tasks were finished, and Natalie felt the weight of exhaustion: her shoulders ached, her legs throbbed, and an entire evening of celebration still lay ahead.
Go change, Eleanor suggested gently, nudging her from the kitchen. Ill manage here.
Natalie slipped into the bedroom. In the wardrobe hung a new navy dress shed bought for the occasionelegant, with a nice cut. Yet she lacked the energy or desire for makeup or an elaborate hairstyle. She pulled out her usual black work dress, freshened her face, touched up her lips, and returned to the guests just as the doorbell rang.
By six the flat was full of peopleparents, longtime friends of the couple, Stephens colleagues, and children. Polly arrived with a trendy cake from a wellknown bakery, and Jamie carried a card hed bought on his way home.
Natalie greeted everyone with a strained smile. Her head buzzed; even a quick trip to the bathroom for a pill was impossibleeveryone kept asking for something. Then Stephen suddenly brightened: he laughed, joked, poured drinks generously, and repeatedly hugged Natalie whenever a toast was raised in her honour.
Finally everyone sat down. Natalie served the roasther signature, reliably good dish.
Nat, maybe we dont need that many salads, Stephen murmured as she ladled out the potato salad. Theres already enough mayo. Youve been overdoing it lately He paused, his glance at her waist saying more than his words. Her cheeks flushed. Eleanor, sitting nearby, gave Stephen a brief look.
The meat turned out a bit dry, Stephen said loudly, cutting a slice. Probably cooked a little too long.
Its perfect, Natalies mother interjected.
Im not being cruel, Stephen raised his hands. Just the last roast was juicier. He said it with a smug grin.
Natalie said nothing, chewing silently, eyes fixed on her plate. What should have been a cozy evening felt like another round of humiliation, performed under watchful eyes.
Toast after toast was madewishes for career advancement, beauty, youth. Parents wished health and patience. Eventually Stephen stood, lifted his glass, and addressed the room.
I want to wish my wife a happy fortieth. This age is serious, but Natalie is handling it like a champ. For her age, shes still well, nothing to complain about, he said, halflaughing.
A nervous chuckle went around.
though she could take a bit better care of herself, he added, still smiling smugly. But we love you anyway. To you, love!
Silence fell. Glasses rose reluctantly, smiles tense. Most avoided Natalies gaze. She sat still, staring at the tablecloth, the longsuppressed emotions bubbling up.
She stood slowly.
Thank you for the wishes, she said quietly and left the room.
Down the hallway, murmurs turned into the usual kitchen chatter. No one followed her. Not even Stephen.
Natalie went to the mirror. She saw a tired woman, eyes dulled, hair unkempt, an everyday look. When had she stopped being herself? How had she allowed it?
She opened the wardrobe and retrieved that navy dress shed saved for this night. She slipped it on, adjusted the neckline, brushed off dust from the earrings Stephen had given her when his words still sounded like love, not reproach. She put on the pair of heels shed worn on her wedding daythey still fit perfectly.
She grabbed her phone and dialed a familiar number.
Hi, Vicky, its me. Its my birthday I know its sudden, but could we meet? I dont want to be alone tonight. How about the Willow Café in half an hour? She booked a table.
She hung up, looked again in the mirror. A different Natalie stared backstraight-backed, cleareyed, a faint smile playing on her lips. Confidence was returning.
When she stepped back into the living room, everyone fell silent. All eyes turned to her. Stephen stared, surprised.
Well, thats a change! he exclaimed. Now thats a proper birthday look. Why didnt you change sooner?
Natalie smiled genuinely for the first time all day. No, Stephen, I wont stay.
What? he blurted. Why?
After everything thats been said, should I sit here and pretend Im happy? No. Im celebrating my way. A taxi will be here in a few minutes. Im going to a restaurant with a friend.
What are you talking about? This was a joke, right? Stephen gestured at the guests, seeking support.
In every joke Natalie began, then stopped. It doesnt matter now. Im leaving. Thank you all, and have a good evening.
She turned to leave. Eleanor caught up with her in the hallway.
Natalie, maybe you shouldnt? she whispered. He didnt mean to hurt you
Eleanor, Natalie said calmly, meeting her eyes, Ive heard those excuses for sixteen years. Maybe he truly didnt intend harm, but Im done tolerating it, especially on my own day. She hugged her sister tightly and walked out.
The stairwell was quiet and cool. With each step down, Natalie felt a weight liftbreathing became easier. The barrier that had held her in finally dissolved. What lay ahead she didnt know. Perhaps Stephen would finally understand. Perhaps not. But at forty, Natalie felt alive for the first time in years.
Outside, the evening air was gentle. A taxi waited at the curb. She got in, gave the driver the address, and felt her phone buzz. It was Stephens name. She didnt look, just silenced it.
That night belonged solely to her, and she alone would decide how to live it.
The lesson: you cannot spend a lifetime pleasing others at the cost of yourself; true freedom comes when you choose your own path, even if it means walking away.
