HAPPY FRIENDSHIP ANNIVERSARY

 Morning Whispers and Table Teasing

(A delicious morning, shared laughter, and the warmth of old memories.)

Morning came quickly, like a whispered secret carried by the wind.

Nora was the first to rise, the faint golden light of dawn slipping through the curtains as she tied her hair back and tiptoed into the quiet kitchen.

The house was still, save for the soft bubbling of the pot she placed on the stove.

Kai's favorite.

She remembered every detail of how he liked it, from the spice level to the way the eggs were folded in.

It was the least chaotic dish to start with, and honestly, she didn't trust herself not to burn Eli's or Amelia's favorites.

This was safe. And... meaningful.

By the time she was nearly done, the aroma had wandered like an impatient guest through the corridors of the house.

Amelia appeared at the kitchen doorway, hair tousled, eyes squinting as if the scent had yanked her from a dream.

"The aroma wouldn't let me sleep," she mumbled, stretching with a yawn.

Then she grinned. "Let me guess, Kai's favorite?"

Nora smirked without answering.

A rustle of footsteps followed. Lena came first, dragging her blanket like a cape.

Then Eli, looking half-awake but alive enough to sniff the air and mutter, "Smells better than half the cafeterias we survived."

Minutes later, the house buzzed with sleepy energy.

"They took quick showers, put on random sweatshirts, and soon found themselves helping Nora set the dining table like clockwork.

Plates clinked, cups were filled, and laughter simmered just as warmly as the food.

"Okay, ready?" Nora said, standing beside the dish like a proud contestant on a cooking show.

"Kai, this one's for you."

Kai blinked, his smile softening. "You cooked my favorite?"

"Yep," Nora replied. "So if you hate it... lie to me."

Everyone laughed.

Kai sat down and took the first bite. He paused dramatically, eyes closed.

"Wow," he said finally.

"It tastes like... second-year finals week, when I failed every single paper but this food kept me alive."

"Ohhh!" Amelia clapped. "The emotional damage era."

Lena added, "And the era Kai swore off relationships because 'no girl understands my digestive needs.'"

Kai groaned. "You said you'd never bring that up."

Eli smirked. "And yet here we are. It's tradition now."

Nora grinned.

"Honestly, it was either that or the infamous week you tried to become a vegetarian and nearly fainted in gym class."

"Okay, that wasn't fine, that was a dark time," Kai muttered.

As they continued eating, more memories poured out, spilled milk on Lena's assignment that led to a group cover-up,

the time Eli accidentally called a professor "mum," and Amelia's prank that ended with glitter in everyone's shoes for a week.

The teasing was relentless, but it was full of affection, like old jackets that still fit despite the years.

"God, I missed this," Amelia said quietly, looking around the table.

"We never really lost it," Nora replied. "Just needed to stir it up again."

Eli raised his cup. "To food, forgiveness, and the people who burn toast but never bridges."

Everyone cheered.

For a moment, the world was simple, plates full, hearts fuller.

Whatever was happening beneath the surface, unspoken feelings, strained threads, it was wrapped in laughter for now.

And sometimes, that was enough.

Echoes of the Sixth Star

A heart-to-heart midday moment, as memories stir and the circle begins to feel whole again.

The sun had drifted high above, casting golden light through the wide windows of their shared safe house..

 They had lazed their way into the living room, sprawled out on cushions and beanbags like old days.

Nora was sketching something random in her notebook.

Kai was flipping through an old playlist. Lena was braiding Amelia's hair absentmindedly, humming under her breath.

Amelia sat still, unusually quiet, her fingers lightly brushing the edges of an old photo tucked between the pages of her journal.

Her gaze lingered.

"Hey," she said suddenly, drawing their attention. "Do you guys remember when we used to be six?"

"The room paused, quiet, still.

"Of course," Kai said softly. "Harrison."

Nora closed her notebook. Eli sat up straighter.

"It's been... what? Four years?" Lena murmured.

"Five," Amelia corrected gently.

"He left just before our final year. His parents moved him out so suddenly, we didn't even get a proper goodbye."

"I still remember him pacing that hallway in school, telling us all not to forget him," Eli said with a half-smile.

"He was always dramatic like that."

Kai laughed, but it was laced with melancholy.

"Dramatic? He cried more than any of us. And then made us cry.

I still have that ridiculous letter he gave to us, to my forever weirdos."

"He did call us that," Nora smiled faintly, her voice thick with nostalgia.

Amelia cleared her throat, her fingers nervously clutching the photo. "Well... I have something to tell you guys."

They looked at her, eyes curious.

"I spoke to him," she said, her voice quiet but steady. "Last night. I got in touch."

The silence broke like a gentle wave.

"You what?" Lena leaned forward.

"You're kidding!" Kai exclaimed, sitting upright.

"Nope." Amelia smiled, blinking quickly. "He reached out. Said he's been meaning to for a while but didn't know how.

He's returning home soon."

Eli's brows rose. "He's coming back?"

"He didn't give a date, but... he asked where we were. I told him we were back at the safe house this year for our friendship anniversary".

I told him we missed him."

There was a beat. Then Nora whispered, "That's... amazing."

Kai stood abruptly, pacing in a circle. "Okay, wait, wait.

Do you know what this means? The original six might be together again."

"It's like the universe is giving us a second chance," Lena added, eyes shining.

Amelia chuckled, her eyes damp. "It's strange.

It's happy and sad at the same time. We've changed, grown, drifted... but when I saw his message, it was like no time had passed."

"Because some bonds," Eli said softly, "don't disappear.

"They just wait."

They sat there in a shared stillness, a bittersweet warmth blanketing the room.

Nora pulled the photo from Amelia's hand and held it up.

It was old, creased at the edges, six teenagers grinning like fools in the sunlight, arms slung over shoulders, no idea what was coming next.

"I can't wait to see this photo come alive again," she whispered.

"Me too," Amelia said.

"Let's keep his seat ready," Lena added. "Always."

They didn't say much else. They didn't need to.

For a moment, the laughter and chatter faded, replaced by something quieter: hope, nostalgia, and the silent heartbeat of a bond too deep for words.

Harrison was coming home.

And maybe, just maybe, the circle would be whole again.