I missed my husband’s 30th birthday.

Not in the dramatic, ran-off-to-Mexico sort of way. I was physically there. I just wasn’t there. No proper effort. No fuss. No moment. And if you’ve ever loved someone while running a small business, you’ll know exactly how you can care so much and still drop the ball with Olympic-level commitment.

Running a small business is chaos. Finding time for myself? Impossible. Friends and family? Neglected. When I finally achieved that elusive work-life balance, I celebrated by opening a shop! (Because umm that’s tooootally not going to torpedo my social life right?!)

Anyway, amidst the brand new set of challenges at Anges, my social life, predictably, took a back seat. I skipped friends’ weddings and family gatherings for Durga Puja and Diwali, and hit a low point when I failed to make an effort for my husband’s 30th birthday — a milestone that deserves celebration, whether with a massive party or a small birthday cake. (And if you want to go full sentimental overachiever, you can always make it wildly personal with bespoke cakes.)

WHY did I not at least make a cake for my main guy on his birthday when I make them everyday for literal strangers!? I should sack myself from my own bakery.

The significance of birthdays hit me like a ton of bricks leading up to June 8th.

Why is this date relevant? Well, not only is it “National Best Friends Day,” it’s also my best friend’s birthday.

Nina — my first ever friend I made in the UK and uni housemate. Nina was a human firework: always fizzing with energy, throwing Pimms-fuelled picnics, and getting tangled in Twister games while wearing the least practical clothing. She had a signature move too: showing up with a slightly battered cake box tucked under one arm like it was contraband, then announcing, “It’s fine. It’s cake,” as if that settled all arguments forever.

And she’d have cake. Maybe a dodgy home-bake, maybe a caterpillar cake, but there always was some type of cake going. Candles were non-negotiable, even if they were jammed into something that looked like it had survived the Northern Line in rush hour.

Cake was non-negotiable. Pigging out in a park? Our tradition. We did that a lot.

Nina’s untimely passing cast a dark shadow, and even with time, the pain lingers. I miss sharing things with her — having my friend to laugh, cry and just be with. I’m sad she’s not here to witness Anges’ growth, and I miss her birthday parties. There’s a particular ache reserved for the person who would’ve been your loudest cheerleader, and now you’re cheering into a quiet room.

In her memory, we chipped in for a park bench. At first, the bench felt empty — a place that should have had Nina but didn’t. It was almost unbearable, sitting there with the weight of what wasn’t. But over the years, it became a ritual. Cupcakes and tea turned into whispered conversations with a friend I wished was still there. Some years I talk. Some years I just sit. Either way, I bring something sweet, because that’s what she would’ve done.

And that’s when it clicked for me — not in a neat, Instagrammable way, but in a proper, stomach-drop way. Birthdays aren’t just parties. They’re tiny, stubborn acts of love. They say: I’m glad you exist. I’m still here. You still matter.

We don’t have many days to mark milestones, so every birthday should be a big deal. We don’t have many days when we can eat half a cake without feeling excessive! So at the very least, everyone should have a birthday cake. I’ll be getting an awesome one for my love’s next birthday, no matter how busy I am. I already know he likes this one! Is that forward-thinking or what!? *pats herself on the back*

Maybe it was this post. Maybe it was the cupcakes. Maybe it was Charlie Puth ambushing me with ‘See You Again.’ Either way, I’m a mess. The floodgates are open now.

I hope this post nudges you — even a tiny bit — to make someone’s next birthday feel seen. Big celebration or small slice. Loud candles or quiet tea. Just… don’t let the moment slide past unnoticed.

Lots of love,

Reshmi xoxo

ps: Life’s too short to skip cake. Celebrate. Eat the cake. Get the cake. (We can even make it for you — zero effort required.)