HAPPY FRIENDSHIP ANNIVERSARY

  Letters and Surprises

The sky outside the beach house softened into a lavender dusk, brushing golden light across the wooden walls and the faces of five friends sprawled across a cozy living room.

Nora stood in front of the old cabinet, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Okay," she said, holding a decorated tin box like a secret treasure. "I have a surprise."

Kai sat up straight, mock suspicion in his eyes. "Is it food? Please say it's food."

Amelie threw a cushion at him. "You just ate half a loaf of banana bread!"

Lena giggled softly. "Let her finish."

Nora opened the tin and revealed a bundle of sealed envelopes.

Each had a name written in familiar, youthful handwriting. The group stilled.

"I asked us all, three years ago, to write letters to our future selves.

For this exact moment." Her voice turned quiet. "Our friendship anniversary."

Eli reached for his envelope with a hesitant breath. "I barely remember what I wrote."

Kai grinned. "Probably something ridiculous."

They all held their letters, the paper a little faded, corners curled with time.

"Who's going first?" Amelie asked.

"I'll go," Kai said without hesitation. He tore his open and began to read aloud, complete with dramatic flair:

"Dear Future Me,

"If you're still too loud, too extra, too everything, good. Don't tone it down.

"But I hope you've learned to say thank you more. And I hope you haven't lost these weirdos, because you need them more than you admit."

Everyone burst into laughter at first, then quieted.

Kai blinked fast and cleared his throat.

"You guys are annoying, but I love you. Ugh, that was gross to say out loud."

Lena squeezed his arm. "We love you, too, Kai."

One by one, they opened their letters, voices overlapping with laughter, nostalgia, and gentle silences.

Lena's was brief but honest:

"I hope you've forgiven yourself. And I hope they still see you, not just who you show them."

Amelie's voice shook slightly as she read hers, full of quiet affirmations and hopes she hadn't dared speak at the time.

When it was Eli's turn, he hesitated.

His letter stayed in his hand, unopened. He glanced at Nora, who was carefully avoiding his gaze.

"I'll read mine later," he murmured.

Nora didn't press. Instead, she opened hers:

"Dear Me,

If you've drifted from them, go back. If you forgot how safe you felt with them, remember. And if you're reading this surrounded by them, thank yourself for never letting go."

A silence fell.

Then Kai stood abruptly. "Okay. We're too sober for this level of emotion.

Who wants ice cream?"

Laughter rippled again, easy and healing.

As they moved toward the kitchen, Nora lingered. Eli stayed behind, too, the letter still unread.

He glanced down at it, then up at her.

She smiled softly. "Not ready yet?"

He gave a quiet shrug. "Some things are easier to feel than to say."

Their eyes held a beat too long. Then Lena called out, "Guys! You'll miss the sundae bar!"

They joined the others, laughter pulling them back into the warmth of now, even as old words lingered in their hearts like echoes.

 Beneath the Quiet

Later that night, the beach house had quieted.

Dishes were done, lights dimmed, and the others had retired to their rooms.

The gentle hush of the waves could be heard just beyond the windows, like a lullaby no one asked for but everyone needed.

Amelia sat on the porch steps, a blanket around her shoulders, cradling a mug of tea.

Lena joined her with a second cup, passing it wordlessly.

For a while, they said nothing, just watched the stars blink into life.

Then Amelia finally broke the silence.

"Did you notice Eli tonight?"

Lena nodded slowly. "Yeah. He didn't read his letter."

"And he looked at Nora," Amelie added. "A few times. Not accidentally."

Lena sipped her tea. "You think something's going on?"

"I don't know. It's not like Eli to stay that quiet, even with something sentimental.

He's the one who always over-analyzes everything we say."

Amelie hugged the mug tighter.

"But tonight, he barely said a word after Kai read his letter."

Lena tilted her head.

"It's like he was... somewhere else. Like he didn't want to open it because it would open something else too."

They sat with the thought.

"Do you think it's Nora?" Lena asked gently. "That maybe it's always been Nora?"

Amelia hesitated. "I've wondered.

The way he looks at her sometimes, like he's memorizing her.

And maybe he wrote something in that letter he's not ready for any of us, especially her, to know."

Lena leaned her head on Amelia's shoulder. "Poor Eli. Must be hard, carrying something for so long."

Amelie whispered, "And poor Nora, too. She has no idea."

They looked out over the moonlit shoreline, waves tracing quiet truths across the sand.

Then Lena added, "We should keep an eye on him. Not push, just... be close."

Amelia nodded. "Yeah. Just in case what he's carrying gets too heavy."

Their hands found each other, fingers linking loosely, silently promising they'd hold space for Eli, even if he is not ready to let them in just yet.

The Letter He Couldn't Read

The house was still.

Eli sat at the edge of his bed, the only sound being the distant whisper of waves and the occasional creak of wooden beams settling with the night.

In his hands was the unopened envelope, his handwriting staring back at him, a five-year-old ghost daring him to open it.

He hadn't read it when Nora brought them out.

He'd laughed it off earlier, "Ah, mine's probably embarrassing.

Let's save the worst for last." But no one circled back. And he was glad.

Now, alone, he wasn't so sure he could handle what was inside.

He ran his thumb over the edge of the paper.

The letter felt heavier than it should, like it had absorbed everything he hadn't said over the years, every time he'd looked at Nora and swallowed the truth.

"Every time he'd almost told her and backed away with a joke instead.

He opened it.

His own words greeted him, crooked and rushed, like he couldn't write them fast enough back then:

"Dear Future Eli,

If you're reading this, it means you survived everything you were scared of. Good job.

Now, let's ask the real question.

Did you ever tell her?"

Eli blinked, breath catching.

"Did you ever tell Nora that you loved her? Not just the friendship, not just the way she organizes everything, and forgets herself.

But the real thing, the kind that never left, not even once.

The kind that aches when she talks about other people.

The kind that makes you feel like home isn't a place, but her."

His fingers curled around the paper.

"If you're still hiding it, what are you afraid of? That she won't feel the same?

Or worse, that she does, and it ruins everything?"

He swallowed hard, blinking away the tears pooling in his eyes.

"Whatever happens, please don't be a stranger to your own heart. You've been in love with your best friend since before you even knew what love meant.

And maybe that's stupid.

Maybe it's brave. But it's true.

Just don't lie to yourself anymore."

He folded the letter back up, slower this time, like he was tucking away something sacred. But the ache lingered, thicker now.

He didn't know what tomorrow held.

He didn't know how to look Nora in the eye and pretend that what he felt wasn't real.

And worse, he didn't know how to tell her without breaking the world they'd so carefully built.

All he knew was this:

He had told himself the truth.

And that… that was a beginning.