Monica's birthday was approaching, but she wasn't expecting much. Birthdays were never a huge deal to her, especially not now that things were changing so rapidly. The thought of a big celebration felt a little distant, almost unnecessary. Still, she couldn't help but wonder if anyone would remember this year.
She had always known that Lynx wasn't the type to keep track of dates. He was... well, Lynx. The quiet, reserved guy who didn't show much excitement over things like birthdays or anniversaries. Still, there was a part of Monica that hoped, just hoped, he might remember—maybe because they'd gotten closer this year, or maybe because she had started to care about the little things a little more.
But before her birthday came around, there was another date to think about. It had been just over a month since their anniversary—February 12th, the day they'd quietly marked one year together. It wasn't like they had made a big deal out of it; no fancy dinner or extravagant gifts. It was simple—just like their relationship. But that was what Monica liked about it.
That morning, Monica had sent him a message, a quiet text that simply said: "Happy anniversary."
Lynx's response came quickly, as it always did: "Happy anniversary."
It was brief, but that was all she needed. The small, unspoken acknowledgment from him made her heart swell with warmth. It was their first anniversary, and even though it wasn't marked by anything special, it felt significant. They had made it a whole year together—one year of quiet companionship, small moments, and shared silences.
A month later, Monica's birthday came, and she wasn't expecting much, despite the anniversary that had passed. She had never been the type to make a fuss over birthdays. After all, it was just another day. But she couldn't help but feel a little tug in her chest, wondering if anyone would remember.
"Hey, do you remember when my birthday is?" Monica casually asked Lynx one afternoon, sitting beside him.
Lynx paused for a moment, glancing at her. He shifted uncomfortably, as if caught off guard by the question. "No," he answered simply, his voice neutral. "I don't."
Monica chuckled softly, not surprised. "It's fine. I didn't expect you to."
The truth was, she didn't mind. She understood Lynx well enough by now to know that he wasn't the type to remember dates or even the kind of guy to make a big deal out of birthdays. He was quiet, laid-back, and didn't really show affection in the typical ways. And that was okay with Monica. She liked that about him, even if it left her feeling a bit wistful at times.
Her birthday was just another day to her. She had never really made a fuss about it. She didn't want to burden anyone with expectations. But that didn't mean she didn't wish a few more people would acknowledge it, even in the smallest of ways.
As the day came closer, Monica had barely mentioned anything to anyone. But on her actual birthday, things were still quiet, as expected. Chelz was the first to wish her a "Happy Birthday," his voice casually ringing through a text, just like always. He was the one who always remembered, despite his lazy demeanor.
Lynx, predictably, sent his own short but sweet message: "Happy Birthday."
That was all. But it was enough.
Monica smiled as she stared at her phone. It wasn't the grand birthday celebration she had imagined as a kid, but it was perfect in its own way.
It wasn't about the loud parties or extravagant gifts—it was about the quiet, simple acknowledgment. It was about the people who remembered, even if it was just because she had nudged them to. Lynx wasn't big on birthdays, but he remembered. And Chelz... well, Chelz had always been a reliable friend in his own way.
She spent the rest of the day surrounded by friends, some of whom had wished her well, others who hadn't. It didn't matter much. What mattered was the few small moments that made her feel seen, especially from the people who understood her in their own quiet ways.
As the day came to a close, Monica couldn't help but feel content. It wasn't a perfect birthday, but it was hers. And, for that day at least, she was happy with the simple things.