The air was warm, smelling of late August and woodsmoke from a small fire table in the corner. Six friends separated for five years by different time zones were finally going to stand on the same ground. Festive string lights zig-zagged overhead, their amber glow reflecting off the condensation on six glasses laid on the table. Behind them, a small projector flickered against a brick chimney, looping old photos from their college days—grainy, overexposed, and perfect. For a moment, nobody moved.
"To us," Filly said, his voice barely rising above the hum of the city below. "To the fact that we actually made it. The realization that they had finished decorating the rooftop in no time yet done an amazing job was worth the smiles.
Admiring the place 'Hope they'll like it,' she suggested
'They're stupid if they won't,' he hyped her. 'I'll have to excuse myself now, I have clients.'
'I really appreciate for giving me a hand , you see this is why we are close,' she remarked
'Because you like misusing me,' he joked as he ran away laughing.
Finally she was left alone. She stretched letting out a voice to express her relief and compliment for the goodwork done. Looking at her wristwatch ' When will they be here?' she mumbled. She couldn't wait to see her friends especially Omar, the boyfriend.
She strolled to the edge of the rooftop, behind her, the party perfectly poised, a silent stage waiting for its players. Every detail was a bid for connection. She smoothed her dress, her fingers trembling slightly. The ice in the bucket hissed as it settled, a loud sound in the expectant silence. As the sunset dipped lower, a cold knot of anxiety tightened in her chest. What if five years was too long? What if they had all outgrown this version of "us"?
At 8:30 PM, Mishy was still adjusting the gold "Reunited" banner, her movements brisk and hopeful. By 9:30 PM, she was sitting on the edge of a wicker lounge chair, her phone face-down on the table as if looking at the blank screen would make the absence of notifications hurt more.
The rooftop, once a "magical wonderland" of amber string lights and chilled Prosecco, now felt like a stage where the actors had simply decided not to show up.The festive hum of the city below felt mocking. The scent of lilies became cloying, and the ice in the bucket had melted into a lukewarm pool, the bottles bobbing like wreckage. As the hours ticked by, the excitement turned to a dull ache. She began to replay the last five years, wondering if the one-sided effort she'd put into the group chat had been a warning sign she'd chosen to ignore.
She stood up, walked to the projector, and watched a single loop of them laughing on a beach half a decade ago. Then, she reached out and clicked the power button, plunging the rooftop into the cold, blue glow. She realized then that a fade is often worse than a fight; a fight means you still matter enough to argue with. This was just the sound of a chapter closing in a room where she was the only one left.
She grabbed her coat, the silence of the rooftop finally becoming deafening. She left the string lights burning—a glowing ghost of a party—and headed to the pub below where she'd spend every Friday night for the past five years, with Filly. She expected he'd give him solace as she got drunk. However she never wanted to be depicted as weak, so she went to the restroom, washed up her face gather her courage and began to walk to filly like being stoop up had not shuttered her.
There, tucked into the oversized corner booth, were five familiar faces. "Mishy!" Seth shouted, nearly falling out of his seat. "Where have you been? We've been texting you for an hour!" She pulled out her phone. The battery was at 1%, the screen frozen on Ivy's text. The rooftop's poor reception had swallowed their messages. They hadn't ghosted her. They had assumed the plan was "to meet at the pub ," forgetting that Mishy had made a suggestion to reunite at the rooftop.
The pub lacked any "aesthetic" lighting, but as the six of them fell into their old rhythm, Mishy realized the venue didn't matter. The conflict from before—the distance and the success—melted into the background