His house was quiet.
Too quiet.
No laughter, no warmth, no smell of food.
Just silent chairs and walls full of unspoken stories.
In the middle of the living room, there was a cake box, slightly open.
Empty.
Just like him.
One day, an old friend came to visit.
He looked around and felt it immediately—
the smile outside did not belong to this place.
He asked gently,
“Where has life taken you?”
The man sat next to the box and said softly:
“People only look at the cover. No one asks what’s inside.”
The friend asked,
“Where’s the cake?”
He smiled—a tired, broken smile—and answered:
“I am the cake… but I lived my whole life inside the box.
I gave everything to people, and kept nothing for myself.”
All his life he had been told:
“Be strong.”
“Don’t cry.”
“Smile, it will pass.”
So he smiled without feeling.
He laughed without joy.
That day, something changed.
He stopped decorating the outside
and started filling the inside.
Little by little, warmth returned to the house.
And the empty cake box was put away.
Because he finally understood one thing:
it’s not enough to look sweet to others—
you must be full inside yourself.
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