Not My Type Anymore, Ex Husband

She woke up to the sound of laughter downstairs.

For a second, she smiled. Maybe they were planning something. Maybe they remembered today was special. She waited for someone to call her down, maybe with a small surprise, even just a “Happy Birthday, Mom.” She waited longer than she should have.

But no one called.

She finally dragged herself out of bed, tied her robe, and walked down the stairs. The scent of pancakes and syrup filled the air. Her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday.

When she stepped into the kitchen, the scene froze her.

Her husband, Caleb, stood at the stove flipping pancakes. Their daughter, Naomi, was seated at the dining table with her fiancé, laughing over something on his phone.

“Morning,” she said softly.

No one looked up.

She cleared her throat and tried again. “Morning.”

Caleb finally turned, his brow furrowed. “You couldn’t wait five more minutes? We’re having a breakfast celebration for Mason. He got a promotion.”

She blinked. “Oh… I didn’t know.”

Naomi rolled her eyes. “Obviously, Mom. You’re always out of touch. Mason made the announcement yesterday.”

Yesterday. When she was curled up on the couch, burning with a low-grade fever, and no one noticed.

“I see,” she whispered.

Caleb placed a stack of pancakes in front of Mason and clapped him on the back. “Proud of you, son. You’re making moves.”

She stood there quietly, fingers tightening around the knot of her robe. “It’s my birthday today,” she said.

The silence was instant.

Naomi let out a low sigh. “Mom, seriously? Can you not make this about you?”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“You just did,” Caleb cut in, voice sharp. “We’re in the middle of celebrating someone else, and you had to bring this up? So selfish.”

She bit her lip, feeling it tremble. “I just thought… Maybe we could all go out later. As a family.”

Mason finally looked up. “Sorry, but Naomi and I have plans. And I’m not giving up my evening for a dinner I didn’t ask for.”

Naomi smirked, sipping her juice. “And we’re not kids anymore. You don’t need a birthday party like you’re twelve.”

“I didn’t ask for a party,” she murmured. “Just some time together.”

Caleb shook his head. “Always so needy. This is exactly why I can’t talk to you about anything serious. You’re exhausting.”

She didn’t speak. Her throat closed up, her heart thudding against the weight of her silence.

Naomi stood, grabbing her purse. “Come on, babe. Let’s go. I’m not staying here to watch her get all dramatic again.”

She passed by her, brushing her shoulder with a deliberate bump.

Mason followed. “Happy birthday, I guess,” he mumbled, not looking at her.

The door slammed behind them.

She turned to Caleb, hoping maybe—just maybe—he’d soften. But he just picked up his coffee mug and walked past her like she wasn’t even there.

“You brought this on yourself,” he muttered. “Always wanting more.”

The front door clicked shut, and