HAPPY FRIENDSHIP ANNIVERSARY

Storms and Stillness

The memory jar now sat empty, surrounded by cocoa mugs and tear-soaked tissues.

The laughter had softened, the room wrapped in the kind of silence only deep bonds could hold.

Outside, it began to rain, soft at first, then steadier.

The windows shimmered with streaks of water, a slow rhythm that filled the gaps between sentences no one dared to speak.

Amelia stood by the window, arms folded across her chest, forehead resting lightly against the cool glass.

She watched the rain, her reflection blurry and unfamiliar.

Behind her, the others still lingered.

Kai had dozed off on the couch.

Nora flipped through an old photo album they found tucked behind one of the bookcases.

Eli… Eli sat still, eyes flicking now and then toward Amelia, as if watching for a signal she wasn't giving.

Lena walked over quietly, brushing Amelia's shoulder as she leaned beside her.

"You okay?" she asked, voice low.

Amelia nodded once. "Yeah. Just… remembering things I thought I forgot."

"I meant what I said earlier," Lena added after a pause. "I'm sorry.

I made you feel like the problem. I didn't mean to… not really."

Amelia turned slightly, her voice softer now. "You weren't entirely wrong, though."

Lena blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I've been running," Amelia said. "From things I didn't want to feel.

From Eli, from all the questions I didn't want to answer.

I thought putting distance between us would keep things neat.

But I only made the air heavier."

"Why didn't you just tell him?"

"Because I'm afraid," Amelia whispered. "Afraid that maybe he does care, but not in the way I need.

Afraid I'm not the person he used to see anymore.

And most of all, afraid I'd ruin this," she gestured vaguely to the space around them, "what we all have."

Lena touched her hand gently.

"You're not the only one who's scared."

Amelia gave a small, broken laugh. "You know what's funny?

I used to believe love was loud, fireworks, and declarations. But sometimes, it's just… a storm inside.

Quiet, but impossible to ignore."

At that moment, Eli rose and walked over, standing just behind them, uncertain.

Lena glanced between them and stepped away.

"I'll give you both a minute."

Eli cleared his throat. "You shouldn't be standing here alone."

"I'm not alone," she replied quietly, still facing the window.

He waited, then said, "Why do I feel like I've lost you when you're right here?"

Amelia's eyes closed, a tear sliding down.

"I didn't want to cause ripples," she said. "Not when things were still."

"But storms happen," Eli replied gently. "And sometimes… stillness only comes after the rain."

She turned to him finally, eyes glistening. "I don't want to break anything."

"You're not breaking anything," Eli said, stepping closer.

"You've been holding it all together, even when you didn't have to."

There was a silence that wrapped around them, tender and hesitant.

Then Amelia stepped back. "We still need time. I need time."

Eli nodded, pain flickering behind his eyes, but acceptance too.

"I'll wait."

She smiled sadly. "I'm not asking you to."

"I know," he said. "But I still will."

Behind them, the rain slowed to a hush.

And somewhere in the space between storm and stillness, they stood together, yet not quite.

"But somehow, it felt like the beginning of healing.

 Pages Meant to Be Hidden

The late afternoon sun bled through the curtains of Eli's room, painting the walls in soft amber light.

Nora had come to check on him, holding a folded hoodie he'd forgotten downstairs.

The house was quieter than usual; everyone was scattered, some napping, some outside.

"Eli?" she called gently, knocking twice before pushing the door open.

No answer.

The room was empty, the window cracked slightly open, letting in a breeze that fluttered the edge of a paper resting on the bed.

Nora blinked, ready to place the hoodie down and leave, but something about the paper caught her eye.

A single sheet, creased but neatly folded, rested atop Eli's pillow.

Her fingers hesitated in the air before picking it up.

Her name wasn't on it.

But Amelia's was.

The letter began plainly, but each line drew her in, quiet as breath.

"To Amelia,

I never planned to say this. And maybe I never will.

But I loved you before I knew what love meant.

I noticed the way you light up a room, not because you speak loudly, but because your presence feels calm.

I backed off because I thought you liked someone else.

I convinced myself to stop feeling what I did.

But every time you smiled, or looked away quietly when our eyes met, I fell all over again.

And I couldn't say it.

I thought I could be just your friend. But when you began to drift, and your laughter didn't reach your eyes anymore, it hurt more than I admitted.

I thought this trip would help me move on.

I even tried to like someone else."

Nora's throat tightened. Her fingers trembled slightly.

She lowered the letter, unsure whether to feel shocked, sad, or betrayed.

A small leather-bound journal lay open beside it, Eli's handwriting sprawled across the page, not as neat, more raw.

Ink smudged in parts, as if he'd written fast, or while emotional.

She sat gently on the bed and began to read.

"Nora, if you ever find this, I'm sorry.

I know I've confused you. I know I tried to be close.

The truth is...

I see Amelia in you.

Not because you're the same. You're wildly different.

But something about your energy, your smile, your passion when you speak about something you care about, reminds me of how she used to be with me.

I thought, maybe, if I could like you, really like you, I could forget what I feel for Amelia.

But you're not a substitute. And that wasn't fair to you.

You deserve someone whose heart isn't tangled.

I didn't want this trip to awaken what I buried. But it did.

So if I made you feel special, only to pull back, I'm sorry. I was trying to rewrite a story that already ended.

And you

You were kind enough to read my silence without pressing it.

Thank you.

I care about you, Nora. Deeply. But not in the way I pretended to.

And I don't know if that makes me honest or cowardly."

Nora felt tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, not from heartbreak, but from the weight of understanding.

He hadn't played her.

He'd been trying to escape a love that lingered too long.

And in that escape, he'd accidentally wandered too close to her.

She placed the letter and journal back gently. She didn't fold the pages, didn't erase the creases, didn't pretend she hadn't read it.

Instead, she whispered into the quiet, "At least you poured your heart out. Even if it was only on paper."

She stood and glanced once more at the room before leaving. The door clicked softly behind her.

In her chest, there was a stillness, not quite peace, but not bitterness either.

Only clarity.

That some hearts take time to mend.

That some truths are best read before they're spoken.

And that sometimes, caring means stepping back… even when it hurts.

 The Letter That Spoke Without a Voice

The hallway was quiet when Eli returned.

The sunset had mellowed into dusk, casting soft shadows along the walls as he climbed the stairs.

Everyone seemed to be downstairs preparing dinner, or maybe just trying to pretend everything was fine.

After the awkward game night, after Amelia's quiet retreat, after his restlessness, all he needed was a moment alone.

He pushed open his door slowly.

Something felt… different.

He walked in, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

His hoodie was no longer on the chair where he'd left it. It was neatly folded on the desk now.

He paused.

And then his eyes moved to the bed.

The letter.

It wasn't exactly where he'd left it.

The top fold was angled slightly differently, the crease more pronounced, subtle things only he would notice.

His journal, too, wasn't shut the way he remembered.

The ribbon marker was no longer on yesterday's page, but placed exactly on the entry he had poured out in frustration just last night.

His heartbeat quickened.

Someone had been here.

He crossed to the bed, picked up the letter slowly, staring at his own words as if they now belonged to someone else.

"To Amelia..."

He didn't need a confession to know who'd found it.

Nora.

His throat tightened. He could imagine the look on her face, the way her brows might've furrowed as she read, the way her mouth might've opened slightly in disbelief.

Maybe even the flicker of sadness in her eyes.

He sat down slowly, letter in hand, staring at the floor.

It was never meant to be read.

Not by Amelia.

Not by anyone.

Just the page. Just the silence.

He exhaled, shoulders slumping with the weight of being found out, not by confrontation, but by quiet discovery.

That hurt more.

He reached for his journal and opened it, confirming what he already knew: the page was no longer private.

A lump formed in his throat.

It was a strange feeling, half humiliation, half relief.

Because now, someone knew.

There was no need to pretend anymore. He didn't need to force smiles around Nora or tiptoe around Amelia.

Someone had seen him raw and hadn't yelled or judged.

Still… he felt like a coward.

He buried his face in his hands.

Why hadn't he just told them?

Why had he tried to mask Amelia's shadow with Nora's light?

Because he was scared.

Scared of rejection.

Scared of hurting someone again.

Scared that if he said it out loud, he'd lose not just a girl, but friends, trust, the delicate balance they'd built over the years.

He didn't hear the door creak open.

But when he looked up…

There was Nora, standing quietly at the threshold, her expression calm but unreadable.

They held each other's gaze for a moment, no words exchanged.

Until Eli finally whispered, "So… you read it."

Nora nodded.

Eli closed his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know," she said softly, walking in and sitting on the edge of the bed, careful to leave space between them.

"You were just trying to heal in a way that only caused more confusion."

"I never meant to use you."

"You didn't use me, Eli," she interrupted gently. "You were just lost.

But I needed to read that. Because I was confused too."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand.

"I'm not angry," she added. "A little sad, maybe.

But not because you didn't choose me. Because you never really let any of us see you. Until that letter."

Eli's lips parted, stunned.

"I'm not going to tell Amelia," she continued, standing.

"That's for you to do. Or not. But I will say this, don't leave more words unsaid."

Then, softer: "They have a way of finding someone anyway."

She gave him a small, bittersweet smile and walked toward the door.

"Nora?"

She turned.

"Thank you… for not hating me."

"I couldn't," she whispered. "Even if I tried."

Then she was gone.

And Eli was alone again, with only a letter, a journal, and the storm in his heart.

But this time, it didn't feel as lonely.