HAPPY FRIENDSHIP ANNIVERSARY

 Letters to the Future

A quiet, heartfelt moment where the group writes letters to their future selves, filled with hope, reflection, and truths left unsaid.

The afternoon sun was soft as it filtered through the windows, casting a golden glow across the living room.

It was Lena who suggested it first, her voice gentle yet sure.

"We should write letters," she said, uncapping a pen. "To our future selves. Just... something to read later. Maybe in five years."

Kai raised an eyebrow. "Future us? Will future me still hate pineapple on pizza?"

Amelie laughed, but then stilled. "No, I like that idea."

Nora was out for a walk, leaving the rest of them scattered around the room, each finding a spot with a blank page and their thoughts.

Lena curled up in the corner of the couch, her handwriting neat and steady, pausing often to think.

She smiled softly at a memory, then frowned, her pen lingering mid-sentence.

Amelia sat on the floor by the fireplace, cross-legged, writing with quiet intensity.

At one point, she blinked back tears she didn't explain. No one asked.

Kai sprawled across the armchair, his page still half empty.

He wasn't used to being this honest, not even with himself, but something about this weekend cracked him open just a little.

Eli sat at the dining table, his letter still untouched.

The blank paper stared at him like a dare. He tapped his pen against the wood, watching the others.

In his head, he imagined writing:

Dear future me, did you ever tell her? Or are you still pretending you're fine, just being her friend?

But he didn't write that. Not yet.

Instead, his hand moved slowly:

If you're reading this... I hope you're braver now. I hope you didn't let fear make all your choices.

No one said much. The only sound was the scratch of pen against paper and the occasional sniffle someone tried to hide.

It wasn't just an exercise; it was a way to leave something behind, to mark this moment not just with photos but with feelings.

By the end, each folded their letters and tucked them into the wooden memory box Amelie had brought.

No names. No dates. Just sealed pieces of themselves, entrusted to time.

Lena looked around. "We'll open them in five years," she said softly. "Promise?"

They all nodded.

No more words were needed.

 Lena's Story

(The night deepens. Lena finally opens up about the parts of herself she's always kept hidden.

Her story reshapes how the group understands their bond—and deepens it.)

The fire crackled low as midnight crept upon them.

Blankets draped over shoulders, half-empty mugs resting by their feet, the group sat in a quiet circle, the earlier laughter fading into a reflective hush.

The kind of silence that wasn't awkward, but waiting.

Lena had been quieter than usual all night, her gaze lingering not on the flames, but on the shadows they cast.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, deliberate, like stepping barefoot into a cold river.

"You ever feel like... the strongest part of you is the one you never show?"

Heads turned. Amelie tilted her head gently. "What do you mean?"

Lena looked up, her eyes shimmering under the firelight.

"I mean... I've always tried to be the one who holds things together. For others. For myself.

Even when I'm breaking inside, I smile because I think that's what I'm supposed to do."

Eli's jaw tensed, his gaze fixed on the flames. Kai stopped fidgeting with the edge of his sweater.

Lena exhaled slowly.

"When we all left campus, I went through a bad year.

The job fell apart. I moved three times.

And I, I didn't tell anyone. Not even my family. Because I thought if I admitted I was struggling, I'd disappoint everyone.

That maybe I wasn't as put together as I always pretended to be."

The air around them thickened, the weight of her honesty anchoring them.

"I remember sitting in my apartment with the lights off," she continued, voice trembling now, "thinking, 'If I vanished, would anyone even notice right away?'"

A stunned silence followed.

Kai's eyes welled as he leaned forward.

"Lena... I would've noticed. We all would have. But... God, I wish you had told us."

Amelie reached across and gently took Lena's hand. "You don't have to be the strong one all the time."

"I know," Lena whispered. "But I didn't back then."

She looked at each of them in turn.

"Being here now... I realize how much I missed this.

Missed you all.

And I just wanted to say, if I ever seemed distant or cold... it was never about you.

I just forgot how to ask for help."

Eli broke the stillness. "You're not alone, Lena. You never were. But now, we're going to make damn sure you remember that."

The group shifted closer, no longer separated by spaces or unsaid things.

They hugged her, not out of pity, but pride.

Because it took courage to speak the truth.

And Lena had always been courageous, even when she was quiet about it.

And for the first time in a long while, Lena let herself cry.

Not because she was breaking, but because, finally, she didn't have to pretend she wasn't.