"Linus, I'm really really sorry," I muttered, wringing my hands as an overwhleming sense of guilt consumed me. However, my words were swallowed by the raucous laughter and cheerful music that drifted from behind him. His birthday cake was cut, and everyone was enjoying what must be a delicious cake. Immediately, my heart dropped to the pits of my stomach - I had broken our tradition. We had always sliced the cake together. No matter what happened, we made it a point to be there. Our bedrooms were filled with pictures of that moment, taken over the years we had known each other.
Linus shook his head slightly, trying his best to put on a mask, but his teary eyes betrayed him. "No, no. It's ok. Your mum called earlier and explained everything. I do understand."
Even though he was saying that, I knew that he was hiding his disappointment and sadness. I was in the wrong, he was still being nice to me; he did not want me to be upset.
"I'll speak to you later," he uttered, wearing that forced smile as he turned away. "Really, don't worry. I'll Whatsapp you."
He was hiding it all in his box of emotions as those words were falling out of his mouth. He was putting my feelings before his which only sent this great sense of guilt crashing into my soul. I was absolutely wrecked when he turned, still wearing a small smile.
Plodding home, I could still recall the blood which had rushed through my head earlier that morning - realisation hit me like a freight train as the weight of my double booking crush my chest.
I had forgotten Linus' birthday.
It clashed with a crucial interview I could not afford to miss. The gravity of the situation bore down on me.
"How could I have been so careless?" I muttered to myself, my voice tinged with self-recrimination. My mind raced, a whirlwind of worry and frustration swirling within me, as I paced the room, my footsteps echoing the frantic beat of my heart.
He would understand, or so I thought.
If anything, images of Linus' disappointed face lingered in the air, haunting my journey home. As I trudged through the streets, my mind replayed the events of the day like a broken record. I had let him down, and my shoulders stooped.
I knew there was only one thing I could do and it offered a faint glimmer of hope amidst the sea of regret that engulfed me. I made a beeline for Don Quijote, filling the basket with punnets of the plumbest strawberries.
"$76.80 please," the cashier monotonously muttered, her voice almost overwhelmed by the jingle of the supermarket. I winced briefly, my eyes briefly flitting to the total displayed on the screen. It would burn a hole in my savings but it would be worth it - I was determined to make amends; I resolved to do something special for him
Upon arriving home, I wasted no time. I rummaged through the cabinets, gathering the necessary ingredients with a newfound sense of purpose. Flour, baking powder, sugar - they all came together in a frenzy of activity as I hastily prepared the batter according to the masterful instructions from Youtube.
Finally, the moment of truth arrived. With bated breath, I removed the cake from the oven.
It was burnt.
My heart fell but I did not have time to bake another. Carefully, I scrapped those bits away as best as I could, sliced the cake in half, and layered it with the macerated strawberries and a generous dollop of whipped cream. I added extra, hoping it would be enough to cover my small failure.
With the cake assembled, I felt a surge of anticipation mixed with nervousness. Would it be enough to make things right?
Heart pounding, I made my way to Linus' house, the cake cradled gently in my hands. The party was over and as he opened the door, his expression unreadable at the sight of me standing there, offering a humble peace offering.
"For you," I said simply, holding out the cake.
He hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his eyes and after a moment's pause, he accepted it, his expression softening slightly.
"Thank you," he murmured, a hint of gratitude lacing his words.
Relief washed over me as I followed him inside, the weight of my guilt momentarily lifted. We settled at the kitchen table, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension as we sat in awkward silence.
I watched anxiously as his gaze flickered between me and the cake. I prayed silently that he would forgive me once he knew the effort I had put into baking it myself. It was not just any cake; it was a heartfelt apology.
Finally, breaking the silence, Linus spoke.
"Shall we?" he asked, his voice tentative yet hopeful.
A wave of gratitude washed over me as I nodded eagerly, my heart swelling with emotion. Together, we sliced into the cake, the anticipation palpable in the air.
But as we took our first bites, he wore a look of amusement as the bitterness flooded our mouths. I was horrified. I had failed so spectacularly. This was not how it was supposed to go. I had wanted to make things right, to mend the rift between us but instead, I delivered this.
How could a burnt cake make up for my mistake?
Linus glanced at me, a small smile quirking at the corners of his lips. "It's the thought that counts," he said softly, his words a soothing balm to my wounded pride. "Come, let's take our annual birthday wefie."
In that moment, I knew that everything would be okay. And as we sat together, 'savoring' each bite of strawberry shortcake, I made a promise to myself to never forget his birthday ever again. His friendship was more important than some stupid interview, and it would all have been for naught even if I managed to ace that and did not have my buddy to celebrate it with.