Chapter 4: Growing Up and Reunion

After that, no one asked her to run errands anymore. Her backpack got lighter, her steps brighter. We got to just be kids again, no drama.

Then came high school—new faces, new jokes, and the slow fade of old friendships. We’d wave in the hall, maybe text sometimes, but the distance grew.

Her profile picture faded into gray on my phone, like she’d stepped out of the world and into memory. Sometimes I’d scroll past her name, feeling a pang of regret. Her photo stayed frozen for years, untouched by time.

Until the year I graduated college and came home for a reunion.

My hands shook as I climbed the stairs to the restaurant, stomach churning with nerves and nostalgia. The old group was already there, loud and laughing over greasy pizza and soda.

Seven years had passed since middle school.

Everyone looked taller, older, some faces almost strangers. We all tried to act like nothing had changed, but time had scattered us.

When she walked in, I barely recognized her. The door swung open and a tall girl with long hair and porcelain skin stepped inside. For a second, I wondered if I had the right person—until she smiled, and suddenly I was twelve again, back in that sunlit classroom.

She wore a floral dress and moved with easy confidence. The whole room went quiet. Her hair and clothes had changed, but her eyes were still the ones I knew.

It was like the years melted away. The same spark was there—the same warmth that once made me feel at home.

Across the busy room, over the mess of empty plates and soda cans, our eyes met, full of the old friendship.

I lifted my soda in a half-hearted toast. She grinned, and for a heartbeat, we were just kids again.

She mouthed, "Long time no see."

We both laughed, and in that moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. But as the room filled with new stories and old faces, I realized some goodbyes are just hellos waiting for their moment.