"Ava, I want to go to Cambodia to help the children and adults there," Ava Langley said to her mother one evening, just after her sixteenth birthday. She had been watching a documentary on the dire state of dental care in rural Cambodia, where children as young as five were losing their teeth due to untreated oral conditions.
It was that moment when Ava's life purpose became clear. She would become a dentist, a career that would allow her to make a real difference. She was determined to bring proper dental care to the communities her mother had once called home.
Years later, after relentless study and sacrifice, Ava achieved her dream. At twenty-six, alongside a team of fellow dental professionals, she opened a free dental clinic in Battambang Province. Once a year, she traveled back to Cambodia to oversee the clinic's operations and witness the impact firsthand.
But Ava wasn't satisfied yet. She wanted to do more. On her twenty-fifth birthday, she had decided to specialize further and pursued periodontology to focus on the treatment of gum disease. Three years later, she had earned her specialty and expanded her services, feeling proud to give back even more to those in need.
The candles on the cake flickered, pulling Ava back into the present. The thirty tiny flames danced in front of her, their glow lighting up the concerned faces of her friends and family surrounding the table.
Her parents, Henry and Lina Langley, stood arm in arm, watching her with gentle smiles, though concern lingered in their eyes. Her two lifelong best friends, Juliet Hale and Sienna Brooks, exchanged a subtle glance, clearly wondering what was wrong. Then there were her many young cousins and nephews, eagerly eyeing the unopened presents, oblivious to her turmoil.
Ava forced a smile, yet the knot in her chest only tightened. She had accomplished every professional goal she had ever set. She had become successful, respected, and independent. Yet here she was, on her thirtieth birthday, feeling utterly… empty.
Love. Marriage. Family. Children.
The words echoed through her mind, relentless and sharp. She had buried those desires for so long, focusing only on her career, but tonight they hit her with crushing clarity.
In thirty years, she had never been in love. Not once. No whirlwind romance, no teenage crush, not even an awkward first kiss. Her memories were filled with study groups, textbooks, late-night shifts, and medical journals. There had been offers, of course—eight-year-old patients declaring their "undying love" after a sticker reward and older gentlemen with wedding bands slipping her their numbers after cleanings—but none of it counted.
Not once had she felt that pull, that ache everyone talked about.
Her stomach twisted with regret. She had sacrificed so much to build a secure life, thinking love would somehow just… happen later. But later had turned into never. And now? Was it too late? Would anyone even look at her when there were younger, more carefree women out there?
Her throat tightened, her vision blurred, and the tears she had been holding back began to fall.
A soft hand touched her shoulder. "Ava, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Lina whispered, her mother's voice warm but filled with worry.
Juliet and Sienna were at her side too, their joyful singing now completely silenced as they exchanged another concerned glance. Ava could see the unspoken question on their faces: What's going on with you?
She couldn't tell them. Not here. Not in front of everyone. How could she explain this ache, this sudden yearning for something she had never prioritized? And admitting it out loud felt too much like failure—failure to balance success and happiness.
So instead, she lied.
"I'm just… overwhelmed," Ava said, forcing a wobbly smile. "You all did so much for me. This is beautiful."
Her father, Henry, nodded proudly. "Of course, Ava. We're so proud of you. You deserve this celebration."
"Yeah, totally!" Sienna added with forced cheerfulness. "You're amazing, Ava. Thirty and thriving!"
But their reassurances only made her feel worse.
Suddenly, a small tug at her dress broke through her spiraling thoughts. Her five-year-old nephew, Jamie, looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes.
"Aunty Ava, can I open your presents now?" he asked, his voice a tiny, hopeful squeak.
Ava let out a shaky laugh, blinking back the rest of her tears. Presents, she thought, grateful for the distraction. Children were so blissfully simple.
"Sure, sweetheart." She scooped him up, hugging him tightly as she pressed her cheek against his soft curls. The warmth of his little body soothed some of the ache in her heart.
Jamie, noticing her damp cheeks, frowned and reached up to gently wipe her tears with his small hand.
"Don't be sad, Aunty Ava. I love you," he whispered.
And that was it. The floodgates opened. She hugged him tighter, unable to stop the quiet sob that broke free.
Her mother was back by her side in an instant, placing a steady hand on her back.
"Ava," Lina whispered, "what's really going on?"
The concern in her voice was Ava's undoing. She had spent years being strong, never wanting to worry her parents, especially after all they had sacrificed for her. But tonight, the weight of it all felt too heavy to bear alone.
Taking a shaky breath, she finally whispered, "I—I just thought I'd have more by now, Mum. More than… work. More than just success. I wanted—" Her voice cracked. "I wanted love, too. A family. And now I feel like I missed my chance."
Lina exchanged a glance with Henry, her expression softening into something so maternal, so understanding, that Ava nearly broke all over again.
"Oh, sweetheart." Her mother hugged her gently. "You have so much time. Life isn't measured by a deadline. Love comes when you least expect it. And you, my darling, have the biggest heart of anyone I know. The right person will see that. I promise."
Juliet knelt down beside her, nodding firmly. "And when he does show up, we'll make sure he's good enough for you."
"Or we'll scare him off," Sienna added with a grin.
Ava let out a watery laugh, the tension in her chest finally beginning to ease.
"Thanks, you guys," she murmured.
Jamie, still nestled in her arms, chimed in, "Aunty Ava, you're the best. Don't cry anymore, okay?"
She kissed his forehead. "Okay, buddy. No more crying tonight."
As everyone clapped and cheered when she finally blew out her candles, Ava made a silent wish.
She wished for love—the kind that would fill this aching void inside her.
Little did she know, that wish would soon come true in the most unexpected way.