Maya sat cross-legged on the faded velvet sofa, scrolling lazily through her phone while the evening news murmured in the background. Across the room, Sam was loading the dishwasher, the clinking of ceramic plates a familiar, comforting soundtrack in their shared Chicago apartment.

"So," Maya said, locking her screen and glancing up. "Next Friday. Five years."

Sam shut the dishwasher with a soft click and wiped his hands on a kitchen towel. "Five years. Half a decade of you actively stealing the good pillows." He walked over, dropping onto the cushion next to her with a sigh. "What’s the plan? We could actually try to get a reservation at *Le Petit Fermier*. Really treat ourselves."

Maya wrinkled her nose. "I looked at their menu today. It’s two hundred dollars a person for a tasting menu, and you don't even get to pick your entree. Honestly, after the week I've had at the clinic, the idea of wearing heels and sitting stiffly for three hours sounds a little exhausting."

"Fair enough," Sam agreed, stretching his legs out. "We’re trying to save for the house down payment anyway. But we can't just do our usual pad thai and Netflix on the couch. It’s a major milestone."

"What if we compromised?" Maya suggested, turning to face him. "We take Friday off work. Make a long weekend out of it."

Sam raised an eyebrow, immediately intrigued. "Staycation?"

"Exactly. We drive up to the state park in the morning, do that ridge hike we’ve been talking about since last fall, and then come home and cook something ridiculously indulgent together. Like the beef Wellington we entirely ruined on year two."

Sam laughed. "I still contend our oven thermometer was broken. But I love it. A hike, a culinary redemption arc, and absolutely zero dress code."

"Perfect


Rain lashed against the kitchen window, blurring the quiet suburban street outside, but inside, the smell of brewing coffee warmed the room. Maya leaned against the quartz counter, staring at the magnetic calendar on the fridge.

"Next Friday," she said, tracing a red circle with her index finger. "Five years, Liam. We survived half a decade without killing each other."

Liam chuckled, flipping a pancake at the stove. "A modern miracle, considering your stance on the dishwasher loading protocol. How should we celebrate? Five is a big one. We could finally try that tasting menu at L'Étoile downtown."

Maya took a slow sip of her coffee, considering. "We could," she agreed, "but honestly? Spending three hundred dollars to eat foam in uncomfortable clothes sounds exhausting right now. Plus, we just paid the property tax."

"Fair point," Liam said, sliding a pancake onto her plate and turning off the burner. He leaned beside her, bumping his shoulder against hers. "So, what’s the alternative? We can't just order takeout and watch a movie. It's a milestone."

"What if we recreated our first date?" Maya asked. "Not the crowded bar, but the disastrous dinner afterward. We can buy the ingredients for that spicy rigatoni we completely butchered."

Liam’s eyes lit up with a grin. "Only if we do it right this time. We can get a couple of good bottles of Pinot Noir, light the fire pit in the backyard if the rain stops, and actually follow the recipe."

Maya smiled, wrapping her free arm around his waist. A fancy restaurant would have been nice, but standing in the kitchen they had painted together, planning a quiet night in their shared home, felt exactly like the kind of milestone she wanted to celebrate.

"Perfect," she murmured.


The scent of garlic and roasting tomatoes filled their shared kitchen as Maya leaned against the counter, scrolling through her calendar. Across the island, Liam was rhythmically chopping basil, the steady thwack of his knife a familiar evening soundtrack.

"So," Maya said, glancing up. "Next Friday. Five years."

Liam scraped the basil into the simmering saucepan and wiped his hands on a dish towel. "Five years. Half a decade of you putting up with my terrible snoring. We should do something big. A Michelin-star dinner downtown? Or maybe we finally book that long weekend in Asheville?"

Maya smiled, walking over to stir the sauce. "Asheville sounds amazing, but with our lease renewal coming up and my car needing new tires... maybe we shouldn't blow a huge hole in our savings right now."

"Fair point," Liam sighed, leaning against the fridge. "I just want it to feel special. We’ve lived together for two years, and sometimes it feels like all we do is talk about grocery lists and Wi-Fi bills. Five years is a major milestone."

"It is," Maya agreed softly, bumping her shoulder against his. "What if we do a high-low kind of night? We can splurge on that expensive bottle of Barolo we saw at the wine shop, and make fresh pasta together. Then, we pull the mattress into the living room and watch that terrible sci-fi movie we saw on our second date."

Liam’s face broke into a grin. "Only if we order the exact same greasy mozzarella sticks from Luigi's to eat during the movie."

"Deal," Maya laughed. "It’s a date."

It wasn't a lavish getaway, but as Liam wrapped his arms around her waist, they both knew it was exactly the celebration they wanted.


Rain lashed against the living room window of their Chicago apartment, but inside, the rhythmic thud of the washing machine provided a comforting soundtrack. Maya tossed a folded towel into the laundry basket and looked across the sofa at Julian.

"So, next Friday is the big five," she said, catching his eye. "Half a decade of putting up with my cold feet."

Julian looked up from his laptop, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I thought it was half a decade of you putting up with my alarm snoozing. We should probably do something actual to celebrate, right? Not just our usual Thai takeout and Netflix?"

"Definitely not just Thai takeout," Maya agreed, sitting cross-legged on the rug. "But I also don't really want to do the whole three-hundred-dollar tasting menu thing. We did that for year three and honestly, I left hungry."

"Agreed. What if we took Friday off and drove up to the lake?" Julian suggested, setting his computer on the coffee table. "We could rent that same A-frame cabin we went to when we first moved in together. Build a fire, hike if the weather holds, and just cook our own fancy dinner."

Maya tapped her chin, considering the logistics. "The dog would love it. And we wouldn't have to deal with downtown dinner traffic."

"Exactly. Plus, we haven't had a weekend out of the city since the summer," Julian added. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I can check if the cabin is available right now on my phone."

"Do it," Maya said, a genuine excitement replacing the mundane chore of folding laundry. "If it's booked, we'll find another place. But five years definitely calls for a fire pit and a very good bottle of wine."


The clatter of silverware against porcelain filled the small galley kitchen of their Chicago apartment. Maya leaned against the counter, drying a wine glass, while Leo scrubbed the last skillet from their Tuesday night stir-fry.

"So, next weekend is the big five," Maya said, hanging the dish towel on the oven handle. "Half a decade. Have we thought about what we’re actually doing?"

Leo rinsed the suds down the drain and dried his hands. "I was looking at cabins in Wisconsin," he said, turning to face her. "Maybe rent an A-frame for two nights? Get out of the city, drink wine by a fire pit."

Maya smiled, stepping closer to wrap her arms around his waist. "A cabin sounds amazing, but with my project launch next week, I don't think I can swing a whole weekend away without stressing. Plus, we're still trying to rebuild the savings account after the car repairs."

"Fair point," Leo sighed, resting his chin on the top of her head. "So, no rustic woodland romance. What’s the counter-offer?"

"What if we do a 'best of' day right here?" Maya suggested, looking up at him. "We sleep in, grab lattes from that indie place on Milwaukee Avenue, and finally try that fancy French restaurant downtown we've been walking past for three years."

Leo considered it, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Only if I get to wear a suit. If we're hitting five years, I want to look good for you."

"Deal," Maya laughed. "And we can put the money we saved on an Airbnb toward the eight-course tasting menu."

"Perfect," Leo said, kissing her forehead. "Five years down, no packing required. Just you, me, and far too much butter."


Rain lashed against the living room window of their Chicago apartment, but inside, the smell of freshly ground coffee made the Saturday morning feel cozy. Maya sat cross-legged on the sofa, scrolling thoughtfully through her calendar.

"Hey," she said, looking up as Liam walked in with two steaming mugs. "The twelfth is next Saturday."

Liam handed her a mug and settled onto the cushions beside her. "Five years. Half a decade. It sounds so much more serious when you put it like that."

Maya smiled, taking a sip. "It is serious. So, how do we want to celebrate? We could do the tasting menu at that new French place downtown. I checked, and they actually still have reservations."

Liam leaned back, blowing on his coffee. "We could. But honestly? Two hundred dollars a person feels a little steep right now, especially since we just had to replace the alternator in the Subaru."

"Fair point," Maya conceded, leaning her head against his shoulder. "What about a weekend away? A rented cabin in Wisconsin?"

"I'd love that, but I have that massive quarterly review on Monday," Liam said, wincing slightly. "I don’t want to spend our anniversary Sunday stressing about spreadsheets instead of enjoying the trip. What if we kept it local?"

Maya traced the rim of her mug, thinking. "What if we recreate our first date? We haven't been to the botanical gardens in years. We could walk through the conservatory, and then come back here and make those homemade pizzas we used to do when we first moved in together."

Liam’s face brightened. "The ones where we almost set off the smoke detector?"

"Exactly those," Maya laughed. "It’s low-stress, it’s just us, and we don't have to pack."

"I love it," Liam said, clinking his mug gently against hers. "Five years down. I wouldn't trade it for anything."


Rain lashed against the living room window of their Chicago apartment, but inside, the space smelled warmly of roasting garlic and damp wool. Maya leaned against the kitchen island, watching Julian stir a pot of mushroom risotto.

"So, next Friday," she said, swirling a splash of Pinot Noir in her glass. "Five years. Are we doing the whole downtown steakhouse thing, or did you have something else in mind?"

Julian paused, tapping his wooden spoon against the rim of the pot. "I was actually looking at reservations earlier today," he admitted. "But everywhere is either completely booked or requires a non-refundable deposit just to sit at the bar. Honestly? The thought of fighting traffic and wearing a tie on a Friday night makes me want to take a nap."

Maya laughed, a warm, easy sound that echoed off their exposed brick walls. "I'm so glad you said that. My coworker was asking what my 'big romantic plans' were, and I realized I just wanted to be at home in my sweatpants."

"Well, we can't just do normal takeout for five years," Julian countered, turning down the burner. "It’s half a decade. We need *elevated* takeout."

"What does that even mean?" Maya asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It means we order from that ridiculously expensive sushi place in the West Loop," Julian said, turning to face her with a grin. "The one we couldn't afford when we first moved in together. We get the massive chef's platter, buy a bottle of champagne that costs more than twenty bucks, and we eat it right here on the coffee table."

Maya’s smile softened. She looked around the apartment they had painstakingly furnished piece by piece over the last three years, feeling a profound sense of contentment. "Sushi, expensive champagne, and pajamas," she agreed, stepping forward to press a kiss to his shoulder. "It's a date."


Rain lashed against the living room window, but inside their Seattle townhouse, the rich aroma of French roast kept the gloomy Saturday at bay. Maya sat sideways in the armchair, scrolling through her phone’s calendar, while Liam stood by the kitchen island, spreading avocado on sourdough.

"So, next weekend," Maya said, glancing up. "Five years. Are we doing a big production, or are we being us?"

Liam chuckled, bringing the plates over to the coffee table. He sat on the floor, leaning back against the sofa. "I feel like 'us' usually implies ordering Thai food and falling asleep halfway through a movie. But five years is a major milestone. We should probably put on actual shoes."

"I'm willing to wear shoes," Maya conceded, taking a piece of toast. "What about that new tasting menu place downtown? The one with the three-month waitlist?"

"I actually looked into it," Liam admitted, looking slightly sheepish. "It’s four hundred dollars a person. I love you, but I also love our savings account, especially since we just had to replace the water heater."

Maya visibly winced. "Right. The great water heater tragedy of October. Okay, forget the Michelin stars."

"What if we compromise?" Liam suggested. "We drive up to Snoqualmie for a day hike—get some fresh air, take the dog. Then, on the way back, we hit up that terrible bowling alley where we had our first date."

A slow smile spread across Maya’s face. "The one with the sticky floors and the amazing chili cheese fries?"

"The very same."

"I think I’d actually prefer that over a tasting menu," she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "As long as you’re prepared to lose to me in bowling. Again."

"It’s an anniversary," Liam said, grinning. "I'll let you win."


Rain lashed against the windows of their Chicago apartment, but inside, the living room was a warm haven of lamplight and the soft hum of the television. Maya muted the post-game analysis and turned to Liam, who was busy untangling a knot in their golden retriever’s fur.

"So, next Friday is five years," Maya said, pulling her knees to her chest. "Have you thought about what we’re doing?"

Liam looked up, a small smile touching his lips. "I have. I was actually going to suggest that fancy tasting menu downtown, but then I looked at the latest mortgage statement."

Maya laughed, a quiet, familiar sound. "Yeah, maybe let’s not dip into the roof repair fund for edible flowers and dry ice. We could do a weekend in Michigan?"

"A cabin would be nice," Liam agreed, shifting on the rug to lean back against the sofa. "But honestly? After the month we’ve both had at work, the idea of packing, driving three hours in Friday traffic, and sleeping in a strange bed sounds more exhausting than romantic."

Maya sighed in agreement. "True. Five years feels big, though. I want it to feel special, not just like a regular Friday night where we order pad Thai and fall asleep by ten."

"What if we elevate the regular Friday?" Liam suggested. "We both take the afternoon off. Go down to the neighborhood butcher and get those dry-aged ribeyes we always stare at but never buy. We open that expensive bottle of Barolo your brother got us for the housewarming, cook together, and actually eat at the dining table instead of the couch."

Maya’s eyes brightened. "No phones. Candles lit. And we finally try baking that chocolate soufflé we’ve been intimidated by."

"Exactly," Liam said, reaching up to squeeze her hand. "Just us, celebrating the home we’ve built together."


Rain tapped gently against the kitchen window as Maya poured two mugs of black coffee. She slid one across the granite island to Leo, who was scrolling through his phone.

"So," Maya said, leaning against the counter. "Next Friday. Five years."

Leo looked up, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Half a decade. We should probably do something a little more exciting than our usual takeout and a movie, right?"

"Probably," Maya agreed, taking a sip. "My mom texted asking if we were going to Hawaii to celebrate. I gently reminded her we just emptied our savings to replace the HVAC system."

Leo chuckled, setting his phone face down. "Yeah, Hawaii is definitely out. But I was looking at that new tasting menu at The Birch Room downtown. It’s supposed to be amazing."

Maya wrinkled her nose slightly. "Two hundred dollars a person, plus wine pairings? I mean, it sounds incredible, but do we really want to put on uncomfortable clothes and eat foam on a Friday night after work?"

"Fair point. You always hate the fancy dress codes," Leo said, his eyes crinkling. "What were you thinking, then? A weekend cabin?"

"I looked into cabins," Maya admitted. "Everything within a three-hour drive is either completely booked or ridiculously overpriced." She sighed, looking around the living room they had painstakingly painted together last summer. "Honestly? What if we just recreate our first date? Go to the retro roller rink, eat terrible concession-stand nachos, and then come back home and finally open that nice bottle of Cabernet we brought back from Napa?"

Leo’s expression softened. "You mean the roller rink where I tripped over my own skates and pulled a hamstring?"

"The very same," Maya laughed.

"I love it," Leo said, reaching across the island to squeeze her hand. "But I'm buying the expensive artisanal cheese for the wine this time. No compromises there."

"Deal," Maya smiled, feeling perfectly content.


Maya leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Liam chop onions with a practiced, albeit slightly slow, rhythm. The scent of garlic already filled their small Chicago apartment.

"So, next Friday," Maya said, taking a sip of her sparkling water. "Five years. Are we doing gifts, or are we putting that money toward the new couch?"

Liam paused his chopping and wiped a tear from his eye with the back of his wrist. "Five years feels like a big deal. I was actually looking at that tasting menu at that new French place downtown. Or maybe a quick weekend trip up to Door County?"

Maya smiled, touched by the ambition, but she shook her head slightly. "The tasting menu is a car payment, Liam. And honestly? The idea of packing a bag for just two days sounds exhausting after the month we’ve both had at work."

"Fair point," Liam sighed, scraping the onions into the sizzling pan. "But I don't want it to just be another Friday night where we order Thai food and fall asleep on the old couch watching Netflix. We’ve built a whole life together. That deserves more than Pad Thai."

"Agreed." Maya stepped closer, stealing a piece of bell pepper from his cutting board. "What if we recreate our first trip instead? We can’t fly to Maine, but we *can* get those ridiculously expensive lobster rolls from the seafood market. We'll pick out a great bottle of wine, leave our phones in the bedroom, and actually talk to each other."

Liam turned to her, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Lobster rolls, no screens, and pretending we're twenty-four again?"

"Exactly."

"I love it," he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "But I'm still getting you a card."

"I'd be mad if you didn't," she laughed.


Maya stared at the glowing calendar on her laptop, tapping her pen against the kitchen island. "Hey, Julian? Next month is the twelfth."

Julian looked up from the stove, where he was stirring a pot of marinara sauce. "Right. Five years. That’s a big one."

"It is," she said, shutting the laptop. "So, what’s the plan? Part of me wants to demand a five-course meal downtown, but my sensible half remembers we just had to replace the transmission on the Subaru."

Julian chuckled, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He walked over and leaned against the counter next to her. "Yeah, the car repair definitely ate into the celebration fund. But five years of living in this house without killing each other? That deserves more than our usual Friday night takeout."

Maya leaned her head against his shoulder. "Agreed. What if we do a weekend trip? Somewhere drivable."

"The Catskills?" Julian suggested, his eyes lighting up. "We could rent a cheap A-frame for two nights. Hike during the day, cook our own dinners, and build a fire at night. We haven't been upstate since we first moved in together."

Maya smiled, picturing the autumn foliage. "That sounds perfect. Honestly, it's much better than sitting in a stuffy, overpriced restaurant anyway. To make it feel special, we can splurge on a really good bottle of wine to bring with us."

"Done," Julian said, kissing the top of her head. "I'll start looking at cabins tonight after dinner. You handle the wine selection."

"Deal," Maya said. She reopened her laptop, the mundane stress of their household budget fading into quiet excitement. Five years was a major milestone, and sitting there in their shared kitchen, she couldn't wait to celebrate it exactly their way.


Maya leaned against the granite kitchen counter, nursing her second cup of Sunday morning coffee. Across the island, Liam was meticulously applying avocado to a piece of sourdough toast.

"So," Maya said, tapping her fingernails against the ceramic mug. "Next weekend. Five years."

Liam looked up, a smudge of green on his thumb. "Half a decade. Do we feel older? I feel older."

"I feel like my knees crack more," Maya laughed. "But seriously, what are we doing to celebrate? My mom texted yesterday asking if we're finally going to that Michelin-star place downtown."

Liam winced slightly. "The one with the six-month waiting list and the three-hundred-dollar tasting menu? I mean, we can try to find a cancellation, but honestly? After the week I’ve had at the firm, putting on a suit sounds like a punishment."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Maya admitted, visibly relaxing her shoulders. "I love dressing up, but dropping half a mortgage payment on tiny plates of foam isn't really us."

Liam took a bite of his toast and chewed thoughtfully. "What if we took Friday off? We could drive up to that rental cabin in the Catskills we loved last year. Just the two of us, the dog, and a ridiculous amount of wine."

Maya’s eyes lit up. She walked around the island and wrapped her arms around his waist. "A long weekend in the mountains. We can make those terrible homemade pizzas and actually use the fire pit."

"Exactly," Liam said, resting his chin on the top of her head. "No dinner reservations, no dress code. Just us celebrating us."

"It’s perfect," Maya smiled, pulling back to steal a piece of crust from his plate. "I'll book the cabin right now. You're on wine duty."


Rain tapped lightly against the kitchen window as Maya dried the last dinner plate. She glanced at the calendar pinned to the stainless-steel fridge. Next Thursday had a bold red circle around it—their five-year anniversary.

"So, next week," Maya said, tossing the dish towel onto the counter. She walked into the living room where Liam was scrolling through his laptop on their oversized sectional. "Five years. Did you want to do the whole fancy dinner downtown again?"

Liam looked up, closing his laptop halfway. "I was actually just looking at reservations. Le Petit Chateau has an opening. Or we could finally take that long weekend trip to Asheville we’ve been talking about since January."

Maya sat beside him, pulling her knees to her chest. "Asheville sounds amazing, but with the roof repair coming up this spring, I kind of want to save the money. And honestly, Le Petit Chateau is always so loud."

"Fair point," Liam said, chuckling. "You hated being crammed at that tiny table last year. What are you thinking, then? It’s half a decade. We can’t just order cheap takeout and watch Netflix."

"We could order *really good* takeout," Maya countered, a playful smile pulling at her lips. "But no, I want it to feel special. What if we both took Friday off? We could hike the blue trail at the state park in the morning—the one we did on our third date—and then cook a nice steak dinner here. Together. Open that expensive Cabernet your parents got us for Christmas."

Liam’s expression softened. He reached over, squeezing her hand. "A hike, zero crowds, and a ridiculous amount of butter on a ribeye. I like it. It feels more like us, anyway."

"Exactly," Maya said, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'll put in my PTO request tomorrow."


Maya traced the rim of her coffee mug, her gaze shifting from her laptop screen to Leo, who was currently losing a morning battle against a stubborn jar of artisanal peanut butter.

"Hey," she said, leaning back against the kitchen island. "Do you realize next Saturday is the twelfth? Five years since we made it official."

Leo stopped wrestling with the jar and looked up, pushing a stray curl from his forehead. "Five years? Wow. Half a decade of you stealing all the hot water." He smiled warmly, finally popping the lid off. "We should do something big. A fancy downtown restaurant? Or maybe a weekend trip to a cabin upstate?"

Maya chuckled. "A cabin sounds nice, but with my project deadline looming and your car still making that weird rattling noise on the highway, I don't know if a road trip is the smartest idea right now."

"Fair point," Leo said, spreading peanut butter onto a piece of toast. "But I refuse to let five years pass with just our usual Thai takeout and a movie. We need a proper celebration."

"What if we compromise?" Maya suggested. "We take Saturday afternoon off, go for a long walk at Miller State Park—where we had our first real date—and then come back here. We can attempt to cook that ridiculous beef Wellington recipe we watched on YouTube last month. We can even open that nice bottle of cabernet your parents gave us for Christmas."

Leo handed her the piece of toast, his eyes lighting up. "I actually love that. It’s ambitious, highly likely to result in a smoky kitchen, but completely *us*."

"Exactly," Maya smiled, taking a bite. "And if the Wellington is a total disaster, we can always fall back on the Thai takeout."


Maya folded the last of the warm towels, stacking them neatly on the living room coffee table. "Hey, the fifteenth is only two weeks away," she said, looking over at Leo.

Leo glanced up from his laptop, the glow of their shared household budget spreadsheet reflecting in his glasses. "Five years," he said, a soft smile breaking his concentration. "Half a decade of you stealing all the hot water."

"And you never refilling the water pitcher," Maya countered affectionately, sinking into the sofa beside him. "So, what’s the plan? Five years feels like a big one. Should we finally do the tasting menu at that French place downtown? We always said we’d save it for a major milestone."

Leo rubbed the back of his neck, considering it. "We could. It’s definitely a special occasion. But looking at this," he tapped the screen, "we’re also trying to replace the furnace before the Chicago winter hits. That dinner is easily four hundred dollars after drinks and tip."

Maya sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Homeownership ruins romance again. But you're right. I don't want to be shivering in January because we ate tiny scallops in September."

"What if we meet in the middle?" Leo suggested, wrapping an arm around her. "We both take Friday off. A long weekend, just us, zero house chores. We can drive out to the state park for a hike, and I’ll make that slow-braised short rib ragu you love. We’ll splurge on a really good bottle of wine—maybe a fifty-dollar bottle instead of a four-hundred-dollar dinner."

Maya turned the idea over. Uninterrupted time together actually sounded infinitely better than shouting over the noise of a crowded, dimly


Maya wiped down the kitchen counter while Sam loaded the dishwasher, executing the familiar choreography of a Tuesday night. Next Thursday would mark five years since their first date, a milestone that felt a bit weightier than their usual anniversaries.

"So," Sam said, closing the dishwasher with a click. "Five years. Are we doing the tasting menu at Le Petit Bleu, or did we want to look at an Airbnb upstate?"

Maya leaned against the island, tossing her dish towel aside. "I looked at Le Petit Bleu. It’s almost three hundred dollars a person now. As much as I love a good scallop, that feels a little steep when we’re supposed to be saving for the roof repair."

"Fair point," Sam agreed, pulling two mugs from the cabinet for tea. "Upstate is out, then. A weekend trip would probably cost just as much by the time we factor in gas and food."

"What if we recreate the first date?" Maya suggested. "The taco truck is still parked on 4th Street, right?"

Sam smiled, handing her a steaming mug of chamomile. "It is. But it’s going to be forty degrees next Thursday. Eating al pastor on a park bench might lose its romance when our fingers go numb."

Maya laughed, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. "Okay, true. What if we compromise? We get the tacos, bring them back here, and open that nice bottle of Barolo your brother got us for Christmas? We can actually use the fireplace."

"Street tacos and an expensive Italian red," Sam mused, his smile widening. "It’s highly unconventional, but I love it."

"Deal." Maya clinked her mug against his. It wasn't a Michelin-starred restaurant, but standing in the quiet kitchen they shared, it sounded like the perfect way to celebrate.


The morning sun angled through the kitchen blinds, warming the hardwood floor where Liam was currently trying to teach their golden retriever to balance a milk bone on her nose. Maya leaned against the quartz counter, sipping her coffee and scrolling through the calendar on her phone.

"Hey," Maya said, looking up. "Did you realize the twelfth is a Friday this year?"

Liam lost his concentration, and the dog snapped up the treat in a flash. He stood, dusting off his sweatpants. "Is it? Wait, that’s two weeks away. Five years."

"Half a decade of putting up with your dishes in the sink," Maya teased, though her smile was soft. "We should probably figure out how we want to celebrate."

Liam walked over and poured himself a mug of dark roast. "We could do the standard fancy dinner downtown. Though last time we went to that new French place, we ended up getting drive-thru burgers on the way home."

Maya laughed, remembering the tiny, expensive portions. "True. Plus, getting dressed up and fighting Friday traffic doesn't really sound like us lately. What if we just got out of the city? Rented a cabin somewhere quiet?"

"Like the Poconos?" Liam asked, leaning against the counter beside her.

"Exactly. We can bring the dog, build a fire, and actually relax. No dinner reservations, no dressing up."

"I love the sound of that," Liam said, bumping his shoulder gently against hers. "I'll look up some dog-friendly rentals this afternoon. And I promise to cook at least one dinner that doesn't involve a microwave."

"Deal," Maya said, clinking her mug against his. It wasn't a grand gala or a traditional milestone, but as she looked around the home they’d built together, a quiet weekend in the woods felt like the perfect celebration.


Maya sat cross-legged on the sofa, scrolling through the calendar on her phone, while Julian stood at the kitchen island spreading avocado on a bagel. Rain tapped gently against the windows of their Portland apartment.

"Hey," Maya called out, looking up. "Next month is the twelfth. Five years since that terrible blind date."

Julian paused, wiping a crumb from his chin. "Five years? Wow. We should probably do something bigger than our usual takeout and bad sci-fi movies."

He carried two plates over to the coffee table and sat beside her.

"I was thinking that too," Maya said, taking her breakfast. "It's a milestone. Maybe we could finally book that weekend cabin out near Mount Hood? We’ve been talking about it since we signed the lease on this place."

Julian chewed thoughtfully. "A cabin sounds amazing, but with my team's software update launching that same week, I might be too burned out to hike or chop firewood. What about that ridiculous tasting-menu place downtown? The one with the dry ice and foam?"

Maya laughed. "It’s like three hundred dollars a person. Honestly, I'd rather put that money toward a new sofa." She patted the sagging gray cushion beneath them.

"Okay, fair point. No foam." Julian leaned back, draping an arm around her shoulders. "What if we compromise? We take a Friday off, drive over to Astoria for just one night, and eat somewhere nice, but where we don't have to wear stiff clothes. Fish and chips by the water."

Maya smiled, leaning into him. "A Friday off, ocean air, and fried food? That actually sounds perfect."

"It’s a date," Julian said. "Five years down, and I still prefer you over pizza. Barely."

Maya shoved his shoulder playfully, already opening a new tab to check coastal hotel rentals.


Maya wiped down the kitchen island, the scent of lemon spray mingling with the lingering aroma of roasted garlic. Across the room, Liam was loading the dishwasher with practiced efficiency.

"So," Maya said, pausing near the sink. "Next weekend. Five years."

Liam shut the dishwasher door with a soft click. "Five years. Half a decade since we rented that tiny U-Haul and hauled your terrible velvet sofa up three flights of stairs." He leaned against the counter, smiling. "We should do something. The traditional gift for five years is wood, right? I could buy you a tree."

Maya laughed, tossing her dish towel aside. "We somehow manage to kill succulents. Let’s skip the tree. Do you want to do a fancy dinner downtown? Try to get a reservation at that new French place?"

Liam frowned slightly, considering it. "We could. But honestly? The idea of paying two hundred dollars to shout over loud music and then hunt for street parking doesn't sound amazing right now."

"Thank God you said that," Maya sighed in relief. "I'm exhausted from work lately. But I still want to celebrate. It’s a big milestone for us."

"It’s a huge deal," Liam agreed softly, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. "What if we both take Friday off? A long weekend just for us."

Maya’s eyes brightened. "Staycation?"

"Exactly. We sleep in, take the dog for a long hike at the state park, and grab those absurdly expensive crab cakes from the seafood market on the way home." He paused. "And instead of a fancy dinner, let's pool the money and finally buy that espresso machine we've been staring at online."

Maya smiled, stepping forward to lean against his chest. "A long hike, crab cakes, and endless good coffee. Happy early anniversary."


Rain lashed against the living room window of their Chicago apartment, but inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee made the Sunday morning feel warm. Maya sat cross-legged on the sofa, her laptop balanced on her knees, while Liam stood by the kitchen island, buttering toast.

"So, next Saturday," Maya called out, looking over the screen at him. "It’s the 14th. Five years."

Liam paused, the butter knife hovering over the sourdough. "Five years. That sounds like a milestone that requires more than our usual Thai takeout and a movie." He walked over, handing her a small plate before sitting down beside her.

"I was thinking the same thing," Maya said, setting her laptop aside. "We could do a weekend getaway? Maybe drive up to Door County, get a cozy cabin for a couple of nights?"

Liam sighed softly, leaning back into the cushions. "I actually looked into that on Friday. Everything's either booked solid or insanely expensive right now. Plus, I have that massive budget review on Monday. Honestly, packing for a trip might just stress us both out."

Maya rested her head on his shoulder. She knew he was right; forcing a stressful trip just to check a milestone box felt wrong. "Okay, no trip. But no sweatpants, either. What if we recreate our first date instead?"

Liam chuckled, a fond memory lighting up his eyes. "You want to eat lukewarm pizza on a park bench in Millennium Park?"

"Well, we could upgrade the pizza," Maya smiled. "Let's get a reservation at that upscale Italian place downtown, actually get dressed up, and then walk through the park after. Just focus on us, no distractions."

"A reservation at Lucca's, a great bottle of wine, and our phones on airplane mode," Liam agreed, wrapping an arm around her. "I'll call them today. Happy early anniversary, Maya."


Rain lashed against the living room windows of Maya and Liam’s Seattle townhouse, a cozy contrast to the warmth inside. Maya folded a stray towel and tossed it into the laundry basket.

"Can you believe it’s going to be five years next weekend?" she asked, looking over at Liam, who was methodically untangling a knot of charging cables on the coffee table.

Liam smiled, setting the wires down. "Five years. Half a decade. We should probably do something slightly more memorable than our usual Thai takeout and a movie, right?"

"Probably," Maya agreed, sinking onto the sofa beside him. "My mom called today and asked if we were finally booking that trip to Hawaii. I had to remind her that we just drained our vacation fund replacing the house's HVAC system."

Liam chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Right. So, maybe not Maui. What about that upscale French place downtown? Le Petit Coin? We haven't been there since our first year together."

Maya wrinkled her nose. "I checked their new tasting menu. It’s a hundred and fifty dollars a person, and I’m pretty sure I’d still want a burger afterward. Plus, we'd have to dress up."

"Fair point. No overpriced tiny plates," Liam said, leaning back. "What if we rented a small cabin up in the Cascades? Just for Saturday night. We could hike, open that expensive bottle of wine we’ve been saving, and actually use the cast-iron Dutch oven you got for Christmas."

Maya’s expression softened. "A woodstove, no cell service, and braised short ribs in the woods?"

"Exactly. Just us and the dog."

"That actually sounds perfect," Maya said, leaning into his shoulder.

"I'll look up some rentals tonight," Liam promised, wrapping an arm around her.


Maya sat cross-legged on the worn olive sofa, her laptop balanced on her knees, while Liam chopped vegetables at the kitchen island. The open layout of their apartment meant they could easily talk over the gentle sizzle of onions.

"Hey," Maya called out, tapping the edge of her screen. "Do you realize the twenty-second is exactly three weeks away?"

Liam paused, his knife hovering over a red bell pepper. "The twenty-second... wait. Five years?"

"Five years since that terrible blind date at the bowling alley," Maya said, smiling. "We should probably do something to mark the occasion. Half a decade of cohabitation and surviving each other's weird habits."

Liam wiped his hands on a dish towel and walked over, leaning against the back of the sofa. "I’ve grown to love your weird habits. But yeah, five years is a big milestone. What were you thinking? We could finally take that trip to Chicago, go all out?"

Maya tilted her head, considering it. "Chicago sounds amazing, but with work being so crazy right now, I don't know if I have the energy for a big flight and a packed itinerary. What if we did something a little closer to home?"

"Like a staycation?" Liam asked.

"Or a drive," she suggested. "Maybe rent an A-frame cabin up in the Catskills for the weekend? We can hike, drink too much wine by a fire, and actually unplug."

Liam’s face brightened. "Just us, the trees, and no cell service? I love that idea. To be honest, it feels a lot more 'us' than a fancy city trip anyway."

"Exactly." Maya opened a new tab on her browser. "I’ll start looking at rental listings. You finish the stir-fry."

He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Deal. Happy early anniversary, Maya."


Rain lashed against the living room window, but inside their shared Chicago apartment, it was warm. Maya sat cross-legged on the rug, sorting through a stack of mail, while Leo scrolled through his laptop on the sofa.

"Hey," Leo said, peering over the top of his screen. "Next Friday is the twelfth. Five years."

Maya looked up, tossing a junk-mail flyer aside. "Wow. Five years since that terrible bowling date." She smiled, leaning her head back against the base of the couch. "We should do something actually fun to celebrate. No rented shoes this time."

"Agreed," Leo laughed. "I was looking at reservations for that new French place downtown, *L'Aura*. But their tasting menu is looking like two hundred dollars a person."

Maya winced. "Yeah, that’s a lot, especially since we just had to replace the Subaru's alternator. I’d rather not stress about a massive credit card bill right now."

"Fair point. So, what’s the alternative? Order a pizza and fall asleep watching Netflix?"

"No, five years is a big milestone. We shouldn't totally phone it in," Maya said, tapping her chin. "What if we drive up to Starved Rock for the day? We haven't been hiking since last fall. We could pack a really upscale picnic—like, the good cheeses, prosciutto, maybe grab a nice bottle of wine from that local shop on Main Street."

Leo’s expression softened, and he closed his laptop. "A fancy picnic in the woods. I like that. It’s quiet, it’s just us, and it definitely beats paying for overpriced escargot."

"Exactly," Maya said, reaching up to squeeze his hand. "And if it rains again, we can lay out a blanket right here and have an indoor picnic. Same cheese, fewer bugs."

"It's a date," Leo smiled. "Happy early anniversary."


Maya leaned against the kitchen island, staring at the magnetic calendar on the fridge. "Hey, do you realize next Saturday is the twelfth?"

Sam looked up from scrubbing a pan, wiping his wet hands on a dish towel. "Five years. Kind of wild, right? Half a decade."

"Yeah. So, what are we doing about it?" Maya asked, crossing her arms comfortably. "My mom texted earlier to see if we were booking a table at that expensive French place downtown."

Sam winced slightly. "Do we really want to drop three hundred dollars on tiny portions of duck? I mean, if you want to, I'm absolutely down. It is a big milestone."

Maya laughed, shaking her head. "God, no. I'd rather put that money toward the patio furniture we’ve been talking about. But I do want to do *something* special. Not just our usual Thai takeout and a movie."

"Agreed," Sam said, walking over and leaning next to her. He nudged her shoulder. "What if we drive up to the state park? We haven't hiked that overlook trail since our first year living here. We could pack a really nice picnic—get the good charcuterie from the Italian market, a bottle of wine, and watch the sunset."

Maya smiled, picturing the evening. It felt perfectly them: thoughtful, a little nostalgic, and undeniably relaxed. "I love that idea. But only if we actually buy the overpriced truffle cheese this time."

"Deal," Sam said, leaning in to kiss her temple. "And maybe when we get back home, we finally pull the trigger and order that patio set."

"Happy early anniversary to us," Maya said, taking a red dry-erase marker and writing *Anniversary Picnic* across the twelfth block on the fridge.


The sizzle of onions filled the cramped Chicago kitchen as Maya bumped her hip gently against David’s.

“You know,” she said, expertly flipping a chicken breast in the skillet, “next Friday is the fifth.”

David paused, a dripping tomato slice hovering over the salad bowl. “Five years since that terrible blind date at the bowling alley.” He smiled, bumping her back. “We should probably do something about that. Celebrate surviving half a decade of my snoring.”

“I was looking at that fancy French place downtown,” Maya suggested, leaning against the counter. “Or maybe booking a weekend Airbnb up in Michigan?”

David scooped the tomatoes into the bowl, considering. “Michigan sounds amazing, but with the property taxes we just paid on this place, a trip might stretch us a bit thin this month. And downtown means getting dressed up, freezing in the wind, and fighting for parking.”

Maya sighed, though it was a fond, agreeable sound. “True. We did promise to be responsible homeowners this year.” She turned off the stove. “So, what’s the counter-offer?”

“What if we lean into the nostalgia?” David leaned against the kitchen island, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “We reserve a lane at Pete’s Alley. Eat awful jalapeño nachos, drink cheap pitcher beer, and I’ll let you win this time.”

“You didn’t *let* me win last time,” Maya laughed, setting the dinner plates down. “I genuinely destroyed you.”

“Exactly. So this time, I’ll just let you.” He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Then we come back to our heavily taxed house, open that nice bottle of wine we brought back from Napa, and just be together.”

Maya tilted her head, her smile softening. “Awful nachos, bowling shoes, and Napa Cabernet. It’s a weird pairing, but I love it. It’s a date.”


The scent of dark roast coffee filled the sunlit kitchen as Maya leaned against the counter, scrolling through her calendar. It was a lazy Sunday morning in the Seattle townhouse she had shared with Liam for the past three years. The mortgage was still a relatively new shared expense, making them careful with their spending.

"Hey," Maya said, looking up as Liam wandered in, his hair sleep-tousled and a faded band t-shirt draped loosely over his frame. "Next Friday is the twelfth. Five years since that terrible blind date."

Liam paused mid-stretch, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Half a decade. That’s a big one. We should probably do something more than our usual Thai takeout and a movie, right?"

Maya handed him a steaming mug. "I was thinking the same thing. But honestly? I looked at weekend flights to Napa last night, and between paying the dog sitter and the sudden hike in airfare, it just feels like a lot of stress for a three-day weekend."

Liam took a sip, leaning against the island beside her. "Agreed. What if we stay local but actually go all out? We could finally try to get a table at that tasting menu place downtown. The one with the ridiculous waiting list."

"Lumière?" Maya’s eyebrows shot up. "Are you sure? It’s incredibly pricey."

"It is," Liam admitted, pulling out his phone. "But we’ve been saving by not traveling this month. Plus, it’s a major milestone. And..." He smirked, bumping his shoulder against hers. "...it means we still get to sleep in our own bed afterward."

Maya laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "You know the exact way to my heart. Fine, check if they have cancellations. If not, we'll rent a little A-frame cabin out by Mt. Rainier."

"Deal," Liam said, his thumbs already flying across the screen.


Maya closed her laptop, the glow of the screen fading as she looked up at Liam, who was chopping onions at their kitchen island.

"Hey," she said, leaning against the granite counter. "Did you realize next Saturday is our fifth anniversary?"

Liam paused, the chef’s knife hovering over the cutting board. He wiped his brow with the back of his wrist. "Wow. Five years. We should probably do something a little bigger than our usual Thai takeout, right?"

"Definitely," Maya agreed. "I was thinking about that new French place downtown, but getting a reservation this late is basically impossible."

Liam scraped the onions into a hot skillet, the kitchen filling with a familiar, comforting sizzle. "What about a weekend trip? We could drive up to the mountains and rent a cabin."

Maya smiled, though her eyes drifted toward the living room, where patches of drywall were still waiting to be painted. "I love that idea, but between the plumbing repair last month and the new water heater... maybe we save the getaway for the fall?"

"Fair point. The joys of co-owning a fixer-upper," Liam chuckled, stirring the pan. He turned to face her, leaning against the stove. "Okay, how about this: we don't go away, but we don't just sit in our sweatpants either. We actually dress up, go to the little Italian spot where we had our first date, and then we splurge on a really expensive bottle of wine to drink out on the patio."

"I love that," Maya said, her smile widening. "It’s romantic, it’s nostalgic, and it won't require a second mortgage."

"Exactly." Liam turned back to the stove, turning down the heat. "I'll call them tomorrow to make sure we get our favorite corner booth."


Steam billowed from the boiling pasta pot, fogging the window of Maya and Leo’s cramped Chicago kitchen. Maya scraped diced onions into a hot skillet, the sharp sizzle filling the comfortable silence between them.

"So," Maya said, wiping her hands on a worn dish towel. "Friday is five years."

Leo looked up from the wooden spoon he was using to stir the rigatoni. "Half a decade. I haven't forgotten. I was actually going to ask if we should book a table at Le Petit Bouchon downtown. The one with the tasting menu."

Maya sighed, leaning against the tile counter. "I thought about that too. But honestly? It’s over two hundred dollars a person, and we just agreed to double down on our house-hunting savings this month."

"True," Leo said, turning down the heat on the stove. "And knowing us, we’d spend half the dinner stressing about the bill. What’s the alternative? A weekend getaway?"

"Also expensive," Maya pointed out. She walked over, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. "What if we just recreate our first date?"

Leo turned his head to smile at her. "Wait in line for forty minutes at the taco truck and eat on the hood of my freezing Honda?"

"Well, a modified version," Maya laughed. "We get the tacos, but we bring them back here. We can eat on the couch, put on terrible vintage sci-fi movies, and use a fraction of the money we saved to splurge on a ridiculously expensive bottle of wine."

Leo turned around fully, pulling her close. "Al pastor tacos and a hundred-dollar Cabernet. That sounds exactly like us."

"It's a date, then," Maya smiled, stepping back to stir the onions before they burned. "I'll pick up the food, you hunt down the wine."


Maya leaned against the kitchen counter, a damp dish towel draped over her shoulder, staring at the magnetic calendar on the fridge.

"Hey, Liam?" she called out to the living room. "Next Friday is the twelfth. Five years."

Liam appeared in the doorway, pausing the podcast playing on his phone. He smiled, leaning against the doorframe. "Half a decade. That feels like a milestone we shouldn't just celebrate with our usual Thai takeout and a movie."

"Agreed," Maya said, turning to face him. "But I also don't really want to blow half our savings on a fancy tasting menu just to say we did. The property tax on the house is due next month."

Liam chuckled, walking over to wrap his arms loosely around her waist. "Practical as always. Okay, so no five-star dinners in the city. What about a weekend away? We could drive up to the Berkshires. Rent a little cabin, maybe one with a fireplace and absolutely zero cell service?"

Maya’s expression softened as she considered the idea. "A cabin? Just us, some good wine, and nowhere to be?"

"Exactly," Liam said. "I can take Friday off, and we'll head up in the morning. We can cook dinner together there instead of fighting for a crowded restaurant reservation."

"I love that," Maya said, resting her chin on his chest. "It feels way more like us, anyway."

"I'll look at some listings tonight," Liam promised, kissing the top of her head. "Five years is a big deal, Maya. I want it to feel special."

"As long as I don't have to wear heels and we're together, it will be," she replied, picking up the dish towel again, though the evening chores suddenly felt entirely weightless.


Rain drummed against the living room window of their Portland duplex. Maya sat cross-legged on the rug, sorting through a stack of mail, while Liam chopped vegetables in the open kitchen.

"Hey," Maya called out, tossing a credit card offer into the recycling bin. "Did you realize the twelfth is a Saturday this year?"

Liam paused, his chef’s knife hovering over a red bell pepper. "The twelfth... Wait, our five-year?"

"Exactly." Maya smiled, walking over to lean against the kitchen island. "A half-decade of cohabitation, compromising on thermostat temperatures, and me tolerating your weird obsession with documentaries about font design."

Liam chuckled, sliding the chopped peppers into a hot skillet. "Helvetica changed the world, Maya. But seriously, five years is a big deal. We should do something special. A weekend out on the coast? Cannon Beach?"

Maya considered it, listening to the sizzle of the stove. "I'd love to, but remember we just paid the mechanic for the Subaru's transmission. That kind of ate our fun budget for the month. Plus, we're supposed to be saving for the down payment."

Liam sighed, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. "Yeah, you're right. I just don't want to do the usual takeout-and-Netflix routine for our fifth. It deserves a little more effort."

"What if we recreate our first date?" Maya suggested, her eyes brightening. "We walk to that dive bar on 4th Street, play exactly three games of terrible pool, and then come back here to try and cook risotto together. But this time, we actually follow a recipe so we don't end up eating cereal at midnight."

Liam smiled, stepping closer to wrap a warm arm around her waist. "Dive bar pool and edible risotto. It's a date."


Maya leaned against the granite kitchen counter, wrapping her hands around a warm mug of coffee to ward off the chill of the Seattle morning. "Liam, next Friday is the twelfth. Five years."

Liam looked up from the frying pan, lowering the heat under the eggs. "I know. Half a decade. We should do something to really celebrate. A tasting menu downtown? Or maybe we could book an Airbnb in the mountains for the weekend?"

Maya smiled, appreciating his enthusiasm, but sighed. "A getaway sounds amazing, but my commute and work have been so exhausting lately. Honestly, the thought of packing an overnight bag or sitting in a loud, cramped restaurant for three hours just stresses me out."

Liam plated


Rain lashed against the kitchen window of their Portland duplex, but inside, the air was warm and smelled of roasting garlic. Maya leaned against the quartz island, swirling the last sip of her Cabernet, while Liam scrolled through his phone on the opposite stool.

"So," Liam said, looking up. "Two weeks until the big five. Half a decade of putting up with me."

Maya smiled, setting her glass down. "It's a miracle we haven't killed each other, honestly. Have you thought about what you want to do?"

"I was looking at that boutique hotel up in the San Juan Islands," Liam offered, turning his phone to show her a picture of a rustic cabin overlooking the water. "We could take a long weekend. Drink overpriced wine by a fire pit."

Maya leaned over to study the screen. It was beautiful, but her mind immediately drifted to the joint-expenses spreadsheet on her laptop. "It looks amazing, but with the property tax bill we just paid... maybe we shouldn't drop a thousand dollars on a getaway right now?"

Liam sighed, though his shoulders dropped in easy agreement. "Yeah, you're right. The roof repair tapped us out. What’s the alternative? A fancy dinner downtown?"

"We always do a fancy dinner," Maya said thoughtfully. "What if we took Friday off, drove out to Cannon Beach for the day, and just packed a ridiculous, high-end picnic? We can stop at that artisanal cheese shop, get the good champagne, and bring the heavy wool blankets."

Liam’s expression brightened. "A freezing, windy, Pacific Northwest picnic? Sounds perfectly us."

"Exactly," Maya laughed, walking around the island to wrap her arms around his shoulders. "We’ll freeze, eat expensive gouda, and be home in time to sleep in our own bed."

"Sold," Liam smiled, leaning back into her embrace. "Happy early anniversary."


The morning sun angled through the blinds of their shared apartment, illuminating the dust motes dancing above the kitchen island. Maya tapped her pen against her open planner, frowning slightly.

"Can you believe it's been exactly five years next Saturday?" she asked, looking up.

At the stove, Liam expertly flipped a pancake. "Five years. Half a decade. We probably shouldn't just order our usual pad thai and binge a true crime docuseries, huh?"

Maya laughed, wrapping both hands around her warm coffee mug. "I mean, I wouldn't *hate* that, but yeah. It feels like a milestone. We should actually celebrate. What do you think? A weekend trip upstate?"

"We could," Liam said, turning the burner down and leaning against the counter. "But the car desperately needs those new tires, and our rent just went up. Maybe we do something special, but local?"

Maya nodded, appreciating his practicality. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together. "True. Okay, what about that French tasting menu place downtown? The one we walked past last month. I actually checked their website, and miraculously, they have a cancellation for an eight o'clock table."

Liam considered it, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Fancy. I'm entirely in, but only if we can still do our actual tradition on Sunday."

Every year since they moved in together, they went to the local nursery, bought a new houseplant, and gave it an unnecessarily formal name. It was a quiet testament to their shared life, something living that they nurtured together without the pressure of rings or legal documents.

"Deal," Maya said, her eyes brightening. "Saturday, we get dressed up and eat tiny, expensive food. Sunday, we buy a ficus and name it Commodore Fluff."

"Perfect," Liam said, sliding a plate of pancakes in front of her. "It’s a plan."


The scent of drip coffee and toasted sourdough filled the small kitchen of Maya and Julian’s Chicago apartment. Maya leaned against the counter, scrolling idly through her phone, while Julian expertly flipped an egg in the cast-iron skillet.

"So," Julian said, breaking the comfortable Sunday morning silence. "Next weekend. Five years."

Maya looked up, a soft smile breaking through her morning grogginess. "Half a decade. We survived a pandemic, two apartment moves, and assembling that massive IKEA wardrobe."

"We barely survived the wardrobe," Julian chuckled, sliding the egg onto a plate. "I was thinking we should do something big to celebrate. A tasting menu downtown? Or maybe book an Airbnb up in Wisconsin?"

Maya accepted the plate he handed her. "A cabin sounds amazing, but with my big quarterly presentation on Friday, I honestly don't know if I'll have the energy to pack and drive three hours."

Julian leaned against the fridge, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "Fair point. Tasting menu?"

"Also tempting," Maya mused, poking her egg with a fork. "But honestly? After the week I’ve had, spending three hundred dollars to eat culinary foam in a stiff dress doesn't sound very relaxing."

"You do hate foam," Julian agreed easily. "Okay, what's the counter-offer?"

Maya looked around their kitchen, her eyes lingering on the mismatched mugs they’d collected over the years and the framed photo from their first road trip pinned to the fridge.

"What if we recreate our first date?" she suggested. "We get takeout from that terrible late-night Thai place, buy a cheap bottle of wine, and watch a bad sci-fi movie on the couch. But this time, we can wear sweatpants."

Julian’s eyes crinkled. "Pad Thai, boxed wine, and *Tremors*?"

"Exactly."

"It’s a date," Julian said, clinking his mug against hers. "Happy early anniversary."


Maya leaned against the kitchen island, watching Liam expertly chop bell peppers for their Tuesday night fajitas. The rhythmic sound of the knife against the bamboo board was a comforting, familiar soundtrack to their shared life.

"So," Maya said, taking a sip of her seltzer. "Next Saturday is the big five-year. Have we figured out what we’re actually doing?"

Liam paused, sweeping the diced peppers into a glass bowl. "I was looking at reservations on my lunch break, actually. *Le Petit Oiseau* has an opening, but it costs an arm and a leg, and honestly? I don't really want to wear a tie."

Maya chuckled, feeling a sudden wave of relief. "Thank God. I don't want to squeeze into heels. Besides, the roof still needs patching before winter. Dropping three hundred dollars on tiny portions of duck confit feels a little irresponsible right now."

"Exactly," Liam agreed, leaning over the counter to kiss her forehead. "But five years is huge. We can't just order takeout and fall asleep to a documentary like every other weekend. It needs to be special."

Maya tapped her fingers against her glass, thinking. "What if we recreated our first weekend trip? We could drive up to Shenandoah. Just for the day. Hike Old Rag, pack some really good sandwiches from the deli downtown, and get a nice bottle of wine for when we get back here?"

Liam’s eyes lit up. "The Italian deli? With the aged prosciutto?"

"The exact one."

"I love that," Liam said, smiling as he turned to ignite the stove burner. "It’s outdoors, it’s just us, and it ends with wine on our own couch. Perfect."

"Perfect," Maya echoed. It wasn't a grand, cinematic gesture, but standing together in their warm, slightly messy kitchen, it felt exactly right.


Rain lashed against the living room window of their Chicago apartment, but inside, the smell of freshly ground coffee kept the Sunday morning cozy. Maya sat cross-legged on the sofa, scrolling absently through the calendar on her phone, while Liam leaned against the kitchen peninsula, waiting for the French press to steep.

"Hey," Maya said, looking up. "Did you realize the twelfth is a Friday this year?"

Liam pressed the plunger down slowly. "The twelfth. Wait, our five-year?"

"Yep." She set her phone down. "Half a decade of me stealing the good blankets. We should probably do something to celebrate."

Liam brought over two mugs, handing her the blue one. "I was thinking about that last week. We could finally try that tasting menu at that upscale spot downtown. Go all out."

Maya blew on her coffee, considering it. "As amazing as that sounds, it's like three hundred dollars a person. With the bathroom renovation coming up, I don't know if I want to stress over a massive dinner bill."

"Fair point," Liam nodded, sitting beside her on the couch. "We could do a weekend trip instead? Drive up to Michigan, rent a cabin near the lake?"

"In November?" Maya chuckled. "We'd absolutely freeze."

"Okay, true. What if we stay right here?" Liam gestured around their shared living room. "We take the Friday off work. No laptops, no chores. We go to the neighborhood Italian place where we had our second date, buy a really ridiculous bottle of wine, and come back here to build a blanket fort and watch terrible sci-fi movies."

Maya smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder. "A five-year anniversary pillow fort and local pasta?"

"With the expensive wine," Liam reminded her.

"It's perfect," she said. "Put it on the calendar."


Rain lashed against the living room window of their Portland duplex, but inside, the smell of dark roast coffee made the gloomy Saturday morning feel warm. Maya sat cross-legged on the sofa, scrolling through her phone’s calendar.

"Hey," she said, looking over at Liam, who was deep into a crossword puzzle at the kitchen peninsula. "Do you realize the twelfth is exactly two weeks away? That’s five years."

Liam looked up, tapping his pen against his chin. "Five years. Half a decade. We should probably do something a little bigger than our usual pad thai takeout."

"Agreed," Maya said, walking over and leaning against the counter beside him. "I looked at that boutique hotel on the coast, but it’s nearly four hundred dollars a night after taxes and fees."

Liam winced. "Yeah, and with my car needing new brakes next month, maybe we shouldn't drain the joint savings account." He set his pen down. "What about a really nice dinner downtown? We haven't been to that French place since my promotion."

Maya considered it, swirling the dark liquid in her mug. "We could. But honestly? Getting dressed up and fighting for parking downtown on a Saturday night sounds a bit exhausting."

"Fair point," Liam laughed. "So, no expensive hotel, no crowded restaurant. What does that leave?"

Maya smiled, a sudden idea sparking. "What if we recreate our first date? We can go to the farmer's market in the morning, buy the ingredients for that terrible pasta dish we tried to make, and actually cook it right this time. Then, crack open a really good bottle of wine here at home."

"The infamous spicy rigatoni incident," Liam mused, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He reached across the counter and took her hand. "I love it. But this time, I’m in charge of the red pepper flakes."

"Deal," Maya said.


The scent of roasting garlic filled the apartment as Maya dried the last of the Tuesday night dinner plates. Next to her, David was methodically scrubbing the cast-iron skillet, a dish towel slung over his shoulder.

"So, next Friday is the big day," David said, not looking up from the sink. "Five years."

Maya smiled, draping her towel over the oven handle. "Half a decade. It sounds so much more serious when you put it like that."

"I was thinking about trying to get a reservation at Le Petit Chateau," David offered, turning off the faucet. "But then I remembered how much you hated the cramped tables last time, and how we're supposed to be padding the house fund."

Maya leaned against the counter, appreciating his practicality. They had moved into this Seattle apartment two years ago with the strict goal of saving for a down payment. Dropping three hundred dollars on a single dinner felt entirely out of sync with the future they were trying to build together.

"Honestly? A fancy French place sounds exhausting right now," Maya said. "I love dressing up with you, but I’d rather do something that feels a bit more like us."

David dried his hands and turned to face her, leaning against the counter. "Define 'us'."

"What if we recreate our first road trip? We can drive out to the coast Saturday morning, grab fish and chips from that little shack in Astoria, and just walk the beach." Maya watched his expression soften. "We can stay in a cheap motel and bring that bottle of good wine we’ve been saving."

"Fish and chips, cheap sheets, and a hundred-dollar Pinot," David chuckled, pulling her in by the waist for a warm hug. "It's a plan. Happy early anniversary, Maya."

"Happy anniversary," she murmured against his shoulder, already looking forward to the weekend.


Rain lashed against the living room window of their Portland duplex, but inside, the only sound was the low hum of the television and the rhythmic click of Maya’s typing.

She paused, glancing at the calendar on her laptop screen. "Hey, Leo? Next Saturday is the fourteenth. Seven years."

On the other end of the couch, Leo lowered his book, marking the page with his thumb. "Seven years," he repeated, a slow smile spreading across his face. "That’s practically a lifetime in lease renewals. We should do something. The real question is, are we doing 'tasting menu downtown' or 'sweatpants and Thai food'?"

Maya laughed, shutting her laptop. "Well, for our fifth, we did the fancy steakhouse, and we were so stuffed we fell asleep by nine. But seven feels significant. I want to celebrate, just maybe without the downtown parking nightmare."

"Fair point," Leo said, shifting down the cushions so their feet touched. "What if we compromise? We could go to that little Italian place on Hawthorne. The one with the handmade ravioli. It's nice enough to dress up for, but we won't have to take out a second mortgage for the wine pairing."

"Trattoria Rosa?" Maya smiled, nodding. "I'd love that. We haven't been there since the week we first moved in together."

"Perfect. I'll see if I can get a reservation for seven." Leo reached over, squeezing her ankle. "And after that, we can come back here, open that bottle of Barolo your brother got us for Christmas, and watch a movie we’ve both already seen."

"Sweatpants included for phase two?" Maya asked.

"Absolutely mandatory," Leo replied, picking his book back up. "Happy early anniversary, Maya."

"Happy early anniversary," she murmured, already looking forward to next weekend.


Maya sat at the kitchen island, scrolling through a calendar app on her phone while Liam poured a second cup of drip coffee. Outside their Seattle townhouse, a steady drizzle blurred the windowpanes.

"So, next Saturday is the fifteenth," Maya said, looking up as Liam slid a steaming mug toward her. "Five years. We should probably figure out what we’re doing."

Liam leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "Five years. Wild. Do we want to do the whole fancy dinner thing again? We could try to get a reservation at that new French place downtown."

Maya took a slow sip of her coffee, thinking it over. "We could. But honestly? Paying two hundred dollars for tiny portions of duck while shouting over a crowded dining room feels exhausting right now."

Liam chuckled, a clear look of relief washing over his face. "Okay, good. I thought I was just getting old. I’d much rather stay in."

"But it’s our five-year," Maya pointed out, tapping her phone against the counter. "It shouldn't just be sweatpants and cold takeout. We need to make it feel like an occasion."

"How about a compromise?" Liam suggested. "We take the money we would’ve spent on an overpriced dinner and buy ridiculously good steaks, a nice bottle of wine, and that rich chocolate tart from the bakery down the street. I’ll cook."

Maya’s lips curved into a smile. "You cooking, while I drink wine and curate the playlist?"

"Exactly," Liam said. "No dress code, no parking garage fees. Just us."

"Deal," Maya said, shutting off her phone screen. "But we’re eating at the actual dining table, not the couch. And we have to light the good candles."

"Candles, steaks, and the dining table," Liam agreed, clinking his mug against hers. "Happy almost five years."


Maya stood at the kitchen island, nursing a mug of dark roast coffee while scrolling through her phone. Across the open floor plan, Sam was folding a pile of warm laundry on the living room sofa.

"Hey," Maya said, glancing up. "Do you realize the twelfth is exactly two weeks away?"

Sam paused, a pair of wool socks in hand. "Five years. Half a decade. Do we get each other wood for this one, or is that just for married people?"

Maya laughed. "I think wood is for married people. Unmarried five-year might just be fancy takeout. But seriously, we should do something. Five years is a big deal."

"It is," Sam agreed, abandoning the laundry to join her at the island. He stole a quick sip of her coffee. "We could do the tasting menu at that French place downtown. We've been talking about it since we signed the lease on this house."

Maya grimaced slightly. "Two hundred dollars a person, though. With the furnace repairs we just paid for, that feels a little irresponsible."

"Fair point," Sam sighed, leaning against the quartz counter. "What about a weekend trip? Up to that A-frame cabin we rented our second year?"

"I don't really have the PTO right now," Maya said. She set her phone down and looked at him, eyes brightening. "What if we just recreate our first date? We get al pastor tacos from the food truck, eat them at the park, and then come back here and finally make those complicated cocktails we bought all that expensive liquor for?"

Sam’s face lit up. "Tacos, high-end amateur mixology, and we don't even have to wear uncomfortable pants?"

"Exactly," Maya smiled, bumping her shoulder affectionately against his.

"It's a date," Sam said. "Put it in the calendar."


Maya chopped bell peppers at the kitchen island while Liam stirred a simmering pot of black bean chili. Outside their Seattle townhouse, a light drizzle blurred the streetlights.

"So," Liam said, tapping his wooden spoon against the pot. "Next Friday. Five years."

Maya paused her chopping and looked up, a soft smile breaking through her focus. "Five years of putting up with your chili every Tuesday. We definitely need to do something special."

"I was looking at the tasting menu at The Alder," Liam suggested, leaning against the counter. "The one with the wine pairings. But it’s almost three hundred dollars a person."

Maya winced, scraping the diced peppers into a bowl. "That’s half our new couch fund. I love a good meal, but I don't know if I want to eat a piece of furniture."

"Fair point. We could do a weekend away? Maybe drive out to the coast and rent a cabin?"

"I looked into that, actually," Maya admitted, drying her hands on a towel. "Everything reasonably priced near Cannon Beach is booked out until November. We really should have thought of it a month ago."

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the bubbling chili filling the kitchen with a warm, cumin-laced scent. It was exactly this kind of easy domesticity that made five years feel both fleeting and momentous.

"What if we just recreate our first date?" Liam asked. "We can get takeout from that terrible taco truck on 4th Street, bring it to the park, and freeze our toes off."

Maya laughed, her eyes crinkling. "Only if we go to the vintage theater afterward and watch a movie we both fall asleep during."

"Deal," Liam said, stepping over to kiss her temple. "Tacos, a nap in the dark, and keeping the couch fund intact. Happy early anniversary."


Maya leaned over the kitchen island, tracing the grid of their shared wall calendar with a blue dry-erase marker.

"Leo, the twelfth is two weeks away," she said, glancing up as he loaded the dishwasher. "Five years."

Leo paused, a coffee mug in hand, and smiled. "Five years. That’s a real milestone. We should probably do something bigger than our usual Tuesday night tacos."

"I was thinking the same thing," Maya agreed, capping the marker. "We could book a weekend up in the Catskills? Get a cabin with a fireplace?"

Leo closed the dishwasher and wiped his hands on a towel. "I love the idea of a cabin, but with your big marketing pitch coming up that Friday, do we really want to spend four hours in traffic on Interstate 87?"

Maya sighed, her shoulders dropping a fraction. "You're right. I’d be stressed the whole drive. But I don't want to just sit on the couch and watch television, either. It’s five years since we met at that terrible trivia night."

Leo walked around the island and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "What if we compromise? We both take Friday off work so it feels like a real holiday. We can go to the botanical garden in the afternoon—you've been wanting to see the new orchid exhibit—and then we recreate our first date."

"O’Malley’s Pub?" Maya laughed, leaning back into him. "I think they still have the worst nachos in the city."

"The very same," Leo said. "And maybe this time, we'll actually win the trivia pot."

"Deal," Maya said, turning her head to kiss his cheek. "But we are definitely splurging on a nice bottle of wine to drink when we get back home."


The scent of roasting garlic filled the cozy kitchen of Maya and Liam’s Seattle duplex. Maya leaned against the tiled counter, casually slicing a red bell pepper while Liam stood beside her, slowly stirring a simmering pot of marinara sauce.

"So," Liam said, tapping his wooden spoon against the edge of the pot. "Next Saturday. Five years."

Maya paused, her knife resting on the cutting board. "I know. Half a decade. It feels like we should do something a little bigger than our usual takeout and a movie, right?"

"Definitely," Liam agreed, turning down the stove's heat. "I actually looked into that tasting menu at The Alder Room, but it’s almost three hundred dollars a person. Honestly, I’d rather put that kind of money toward the new couch fund."

Maya laughed, sliding the sliced peppers into a bowl. "Agreed. We aren't really micro-greens and foam people anyway. What about a weekend away? We could drive up and rent a cabin in the Cascades."

"I'd love that, but almost everything is booked for the season, and we have the plumber coming on Friday to finally look at the guest bathroom," Liam replied with a slight grimace.

"Right. The endless romance of sharing a mortgage." Maya walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Okay, compromise. We stay in the city, but we actually get dressed up. Real clothes, no sweatpants. We go to the little bistro where we had our third date, and then we come home and open that expensive bottle of wine we bought in Napa last summer."

Liam smiled, turning his head to press a kiss to her temple. "I like the sound of that. Good food, the good wine, and my favorite person. It's a date."


Rain pelted the living room window of their Chicago apartment, but inside, the air was warm and smelled of roasting garlic. Maya sat cross-legged on the rug, scrolling through her phone’s calendar, while Liam stirred a pot of risotto on the stove.

"Hey," Maya called out, looking up. "Next Friday is the twelfth. Five years."

Liam tapped his wooden spoon against the pot and lowered the heat. He leaned against the counter, smiling. "Five years. Half a decade of you stealing the blankets. We should do something big, right? Should I try to get a reservation at that new tasting-menu place downtown?"

Maya blew out a breath. "I already looked. They're booked solid until October. Plus, after we just paid for this new couch, dropping three hundred dollars on a single dinner feels a little irresponsible."

"Fair point," Liam agreed, walking over to hand her a glass of wine. "What about a long weekend? We could drive up to Door County, get a cabin on the lake."

"I'd love that," Maya sighed, taking the glass. "But I have that massive Q3 presentation on Monday morning. I’ll be stressed the whole time if I'm away from my laptop."

Liam sat down beside her, the new couch groaning slightly under his weight. "Okay, no fancy molecular gastronomy, and no stressful road trips. What if we just stay right here?"

"Like any other Friday?"

"Not exactly," Liam said, nudging her shoulder. "We splurge on those dry-aged ribeyes from the butcher down the street, buy a bottle of champagne that actually has a cork, and we ban all talk of Q3. Just us, cooking together."

Maya’s face softened, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. "Steak, champagne, and sweatpants. Honestly, after five years, that sounds perfect."


Maya chopped green bell peppers at the butcher-block kitchen island, the rhythmic thwack of the knife filling their cozy Chicago apartment. Across the room, Liam stood by the entryway, sorting through the day's mail.

"Hey," Liam said, tossing a grocery circular into the recycling bin. "Friday is the fourteenth. Five years since we made it official."

Maya paused, her knife resting on the cutting board. "Wow. Half a decade. I guess we should probably do something a little more festive than our usual pad thai on the couch, right?"

"Probably," Liam agreed, walking over to steal a slice of raw pepper. "My mom actually texted this afternoon asking if we were throwing a party. I told her we're perfectly happy just cohabitating in peace."

Maya laughed, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Bless her. But seriously, do you want to try getting a reservation at that fancy Italian place downtown? The one with the tasting menu?"

Liam winced slightly, leaning against the counter. "We could. But honestly? Dropping two hundred dollars to eat tiny pasta in a crowded, loud room sounds completely exhausting after the work week we've both had."

"Thank God," Maya sighed, her shoulders dropping in relief. "I really didn't want to squeeze into heels. What if we recreate our first date instead?"


Maya chopped onions while Liam stirred the simmering pasta sauce. The rhythmic, familiar sounds of their Tuesday evening routine filled the warmly lit kitchen of their shared Chicago apartment.

"So," Liam said, tapping the wooden spoon against the rim of the pot. "Next Saturday. Five years."

Maya paused her knife, wiping a stray onion-induced tear with the back of her wrist. "I know. Half a decade. Do we need to do the whole fancy downtown steakhouse thing again? Because honestly, looking at our joint spreadsheet after last month's vet bill..."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Liam laughed, turning down the heat on the stove. "I love an excuse to dress up, but dropping two hundred bucks feels a little forced right now. What if we did a day trip instead? Drive out to Starved Rock, get out of the city?"

Maya resumed chopping, a skeptical smile on her face. "Hiking in November? You remember last year. I lost feeling in my toes, and you complained about your boots for three miles."

"Fair point," he conceded, leaning against the counter. "Okay, what's something we actually *want* to do to celebrate?"

Maya scraped the diced onions into a glass bowl. "Honestly? Let's recreate our first date, but upgraded. We got those terrible, greasy tacos from that food truck, remember?"

"And ate them on the hood of my old Civic," Liam said, his eyes crinkling. "We can't replicate the Civic. Thank God."

"No, but we could make really high-end gourmet tacos here. Get the nice flank steak from the butcher, fresh tortillas from the


Maya leaned against the kitchen counter, wrapping both hands around her favorite ceramic mug. Rain tapped gently against the window of the Portland duplex she had shared with Liam for the past two years.

"So, the twelfth is two weeks away," she said, watching him scoop coffee grounds into the French press. "Five years. We should probably figure out what we’re doing."

Liam paused, tapping the plastic scoop against the edge of the glass to shake loose the last few grounds. "Five years. Half a decade. Do we go all out? Michelin-star dinner? Or do we finally buy that nice vacuum we’ve been talking about and call it romance?"

Maya laughed, taking a sip of her Earl Grey. "Tempting as the Dyson is, I think I want an actual experience. But I don't really want to do the stiff-collar steakhouse thing. We did that for year three and we were back home in sweatpants by nine o'clock."

"Fair point," Liam agreed. He poured the boiling water, the rich smell of dark roast filling their small kitchen. He leaned back against the counter next to her, bumping his shoulder affectionately against hers. "What about a weekend away? Just drive up to the coast? We could rent one of those A-frame cabins near Cannon Beach. Build a fire, drink good wine, completely ignore our emails."

Maya looked at him, picturing the misty beach and the quiet isolation. It felt perfectly them—comfortable, intimate, and decidedly unpretentious.

"No vacuum?" she teased, smiling over the rim of her mug.

"We can get the vacuum for Christmas," Liam smiled back, setting the four-minute timer on his phone. "I’ll look for a cabin today. You look up a couple of wineries on the way?"

"Deal," Maya said, resting her head against his arm. Five years felt substantial, but the quiet, easy rhythm of their morning felt even better.


Maya leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the morning coffee drip into the carafe. Outside the window of their shared Seattle townhouse, a steady drizzle washed the street.

"Can you believe it’s next Saturday?" she asked, pouring two mugs and passing one to Liam.

Liam took a cautious sip, leaning back against the refrigerator. "Five years. Half a decade. We should probably do something a little more memorable than our usual Thai takeout and a movie."

"Agreed," Maya said, wrapping both hands around her warm mug. "But I don't really want to do a stiff, three-hour tasting menu, either. I spend all week in a blazer and heels. I just want to relax."

Liam chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, no to that fancy French place downtown? I was actually going to try for a last-minute cancellation reservation this afternoon."

"It's a sweet thought," Maya smiled, stepping closer to rest her head against his shoulder. "But honestly? I'd rather put that money toward an Airbnb on the coast for the weekend. Just us, the dog, and a fireplace. We haven't left the city in months."

Liam thoughtfully nudged a takeout menu pinned to the fridge. "A weekend away. I actually love that. But we still need a proper anniversary dinner on the actual day."

"What if we cook?" Maya suggested, her eyes brightening. "We can go to the market, get some fresh halibut, grab a ridiculously expensive bottle of Oregon Pinot Noir, and make a total mess of the kitchen together."

"Deal," Liam said, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple. "I’


Morning sunlight spilled across the kitchen island as Maya scrolled through her calendar. Across the counter, Liam poured two mugs of dark roast coffee, sliding one toward her.

"So," Maya said, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. "Next Saturday is the fourteenth. Five years."

Liam leaned against the counter, a soft smile breaking through his early-morning grogginess. "Five years of living in sin. Time flies. I was thinking we should do something big this time. A weekend up in the Catskills? Or finally trying that tasting menu at the French place downtown?"

Maya took a slow sip of her coffee, considering. "The Catskills sound amazing, but we still have to pay the contractor for the bathroom retile next week. And honestly, the thought of putting on heels for a three-hour dinner sounds a little exhausting after the month I've had at work."

"Fair point," Liam laughed. "We are officially an old married couple, just without the paperwork. What do you have in mind?"

"What if we just keep it to us?" Maya suggested. "We could go to the farmers market in the morning, buy those ridiculously expensive dry-aged steaks we never usually get, and cook together. Open that bottle of Cabernet we brought back from Napa last year."

Liam’s eyes lit up. "Steak, good wine, and sweatpants? You really know the way to my heart." He reached across the marble island, covering her hand with his. "We can put on that jazz record you bought me for Christmas. Make a whole night of it."

"Deal," Maya smiled, squeezing his fingers. "It’s a date. A highly domesticated, financially responsible date."

"The best kind," Liam agreed, raising his mug in a makeshift toast. "Happy almost-anniversary."


Rain lashed against the kitchen window of Maya and Liam’s shared townhouse in Seattle. Maya leaned against the counter, wrapping both hands around her favorite ceramic mug, while Liam scraped the last of the scrambled eggs from the skillet onto their plates.

"So," Liam said, sliding a plate toward her. "Next Friday. Five years."

Maya smiled, the steam from her coffee warming her face. "Half a decade. We survived the great IKEA couch assembly of 2021 and two career changes. We definitely need to celebrate."

"I was looking at that new French place downtown," Liam suggested, taking a seat at the small island. "Le Petit Chalet? They have a tasting menu. It’s a little pricey, but it's a big milestone."

Maya hesitated, picking up her fork. She appreciated the thought, but the idea of dressing up and fighting Friday night downtown traffic after a long work week sounded exhausting. Plus, they were supposed to be aggressively saving for their backyard patio renovation.

"That sounds amazing, but what if we kept it a bit closer to home?" Maya asked, pulling up a stool next to him. "I don’t really want to spend two hours in rush hour just to get to dinner."

Liam chewed thoughtfully, nodding. "Fair point. We could do our old favorite? The Thai place on 4th, then grab a good bottle of wine?"

"Actually," Maya’s eyes lit up. "What if we recreate our first weekend trip? We can go to the Saturday farmer's market, buy the ingredients to make homemade wood-fired pizzas, and finally open that bottle of Barolo your brother got us for Christmas."

Liam’s face softened into a grin. "Pizza, expensive Italian wine, and sweatpants? You know the exact way to my heart."

"It’s a date," Maya said, lightly clinking her coffee mug against his glass.


Rain lashed against the living room window of their Brooklyn apartment, but inside, the only sound was the rhythmic chopping of vegetables. Maya scraped a pile of diced onions into the hot skillet, glancing over her shoulder at David, who was smoothing out the wrinkles in their everyday tablecloth.

"So, next Friday is the big day," Maya said, wiping her hands on a damp dish towel. "Five years of putting up with each other. Have we decided if we’re actually doing anything?"

David paused, a handful of silverware suspended in the air. "I looked into getting a reservation at that new French place downtown. But honestly? Dropping three hundred dollars on tiny plates just to say we did feels a little exhausting right now."

"Thank God you said that," Maya sighed in relief, leaning back against the kitchen island. "I was dreading the idea of wearing heels after the week I've had at the clinic. But it *is* five years. It's a milestone. We can't just order Thai takeout and fall asleep on the couch like a regular Tuesday."

"Agreed. We need a solid middle ground." David walked over, wrapping a warm arm around her waist. "What about renting a small cabin up in the Catskills for the weekend? Just the two of us, a couple bottles of good wine, and the dog. We can hike if the weather clears, or just sit by a fire and actually talk without our laptops open."

Maya smiled, leaning into his shoulder as the onions sizzled behind her. "That sounds absolutely perfect. But only if we stop at that weird diner off Interstate 87 on the way up."

"The one with the terrible coffee and the amazing cherry pie? Deal," David said, kissing the top of her head. "I'll book it tonight."


Maya stared at the glowing calendar on her laptop, tapping her pen against her chin. Across the kitchen, Liam was methodically pouring hot water through a coffee filter, the rich scent of French roast filling their cozy, slightly cluttered home.

"Hey," Maya said, breaking the quiet of their Sunday morning. "Next Saturday is the twelfth. Five years."

Liam looked up, a warm smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. He carried two mugs over to the island, setting one carefully beside her keyboard. "Half a decade of putting up with my terrible snoring. We definitely need to celebrate. I was thinking we could finally try that revolving restaurant downtown."

Maya wrapped her hands around the warm mug, picturing the hassle of downtown parking, the inevitable chill of a nice dress, and the extravagant bill. "We could," she said slowly. "But honestly? The thought of wearing heels right now sounds exhausting."

Liam chuckled, pulling out a stool and sitting across from her. "Fair enough. What’s the alternative? We can't just treat five years like a regular Tuesday."

"What if we stay in, but make it an event?" Maya suggested, her enthusiasm building. "We order the massive sushi boat from Oishi—the one we always say is way too expensive. We buy a legitimately good bottle of champagne, and we finally assemble that patio fire pit that's been sitting in the garage since April."

Liam tilted his head, considering the pitch. "Premium sushi, sweatpants, and a fire in our own backyard." He reached across the granite counter, his fingers catching hers. "And we can take whatever we save on a fancy night out and drop it into the kitchen remodel fund."

"Exactly," Maya smiled, squeezing his hand. "Happy five years to us."

"It's a date," Liam said.


Maya stirred the bubbling marinara sauce, the scent of garlic and basil filling their cramped but cozy Seattle townhouse. She glanced at the floral calendar pinned to the fridge, her eyes catching a circled date. "Hey, Liam? Next Friday is the twelfth. Five years."

Liam looked up from his spreadsheet at the kitchen island, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Wow. Half a decade. We definitely need to do something bigger than our usual pad thai and a movie on the couch."

Maya turned the burner down to a simmer and tapped her wooden spoon against the pot. "Agreed. Are we thinking a weekend away? Maybe we could drive over to Leavenworth and rent a cabin?"

"I actually looked into that earlier this week," Liam admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Prices are a little crazy right now, and honestly, I have that massive quarterly review on Monday. I don't want to ruin our anniversary trip by stressing over my inbox."

"Fair enough," Maya said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "I don't want you stressed either. But I also don't want to just sit in our sweatpants. What if we do a really upscale dinner out? Like, tasting-menu nice. We haven't done that since the week we signed the lease on this place."

Liam smiled, finally closing his laptop. "That French place downtown? The one with the ridiculous wine pairings?"

"Exactly," Maya laughed. "We actually wear our nice clothes, spend entirely too much money on butter and truffles, and then catch a cab back to *our* home."

"I love it," Liam said, pulling out his phone. "I'll see if I can snag a reservation right now. And maybe we can take Saturday completely off to just hike the local trails. No screens, just us."

"A fancy Friday night and a quiet Saturday," Maya said, leaning over the counter to kiss him. "Sounds like a perfect five years."


Maya wiped down the kitchen counter while Liam packed their leftover lasagna into glass containers. Outside their Chicago apartment, the November wind howled, rattling the living room windows.

"So," Liam said, snapping a plastic lid into place. "Next weekend. Five years."

Maya paused her wiping, leaning against the sink. "I know. Half a decade. Do we feel older?"

"My knees do," Liam laughed, sliding the containers into the fridge. "I was looking at dinner reservations. We could try to get a table at that new tasting menu place downtown. The one with the culinary foam."

Maya wrinkled her nose. "Two hundred dollars a person for foam? I don’t know. I kind of want to do something that feels like us. Not something performative."

"Fair enough. No foam." Liam crossed his arms, thinking. "We haven't been up to the lake since we first moved in together."

"A cabin?" Maya's expression softened. "In November? It'll be freezing."

"Exactly. We rent a place with a woodstove, bring the dog, drink cheap wine, and make our own fancy dinner. No overpriced menus, just us."

Maya looked around their cozy, slightly cluttered kitchen. They had built a solid life here, step by step, completely content without the pressure of rings or traditional timelines. Five years felt significant, but it didn't require a grand, expensive spectacle to validate it.

"A cabin sounds perfect," Maya said, smiling. "But I’m not doing the dishes on our anniversary."

"Deal," Liam agreed, bumping his shoulder affectionately against hers. "I'll sear the steaks, I'll wash the plates, and you can focus on keeping the fire going."

"I can handle that," Maya said, tossing her dish towel onto the counter. "I'll start looking at rentals tonight."


Rain lashed against the windows of Maya and Liam’s Chicago apartment, blurring the glow of the streetlights. Liam stood by the kitchen island, rhythmically chopping bell peppers for their Tuesday stir-fry, while Maya sat on the sofa, scrolling through her digital calendar.

"So, the twelfth is in two weeks," Maya said, peering over her laptop screen. "Five years. We should probably figure out what we’re doing."

Liam scraped the peppers into a sizzling skillet. "Five years," he mused, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Half a decade of you stealing all the blankets. Should we do a fancy dinner? Downtown, maybe? We haven't been to that steakhouse since my last birthday."

Maya closed her laptop and walked over to the kitchen, leaning against the quartz counter. "Steak sounds good, but honestly? Paying two hundred dollars for dinner when it's freezing outside feels like a chore right now. What if we do something a bit more... us?"

Liam raised an eyebrow, stirring the vegetables. "Like ordering Thai takeout and falling asleep halfway through a movie?"

"Exactly," Maya laughed. "But elevated. Let's try making that ridiculous beef Wellington recipe we watched on YouTube last month. We can finally open the expensive wine your parents gave us for Christmas."

"Beef Wellington?" Liam asked, a grin spreading across his face. "We are definitely going to ruin the puff pastry."

"Oh, absolutely," Maya agreed cheerfully. "But it’ll be a fun disaster. And then maybe, instead of a big dinner out, we put that money toward renting a cabin up in Wisconsin for a long weekend next month. Just the two of us and the dog."

Liam leaned over the counter and kissed her forehead. "Burnt pastry and a cabin getaway. Happy early anniversary, Maya."

"Happy anniversary," she smiled, feeling the anticipation already settling in.


Maya leaned against the kitchen island, scrolling through the calendar on her phone while Liam dried the last of the dinner plates. The rhythmic clinking of ceramic was a familiar, comforting soundtrack to their shared evenings.

"Hey," Maya said, glancing up. "Did you realize next Friday is the twelfth? Our five-year anniversary."

Liam draped the dish towel over the oven handle and leaned across the counter, smiling. "I did. I was actually going to bring it up tonight. Five years is a big milestone. I was thinking we could book a weekend up in a cabin in Asheville. Get out of the city."

Maya hummed, genuinely appreciating the thought. A mountain getaway sounded romantic, but the reality of their shared finances lingered in the back of her mind. They had been aggressively saving for a down payment on a house, a goal that finally felt within reach this year.

"A cabin sounds amazing," Maya said gently, tracing the grain of the butcher block. "But between the rental, gas, and eating out for three days, it might put a dent in the house fund. What if we do a 'day-cation' instead? We could both take Friday off work."

Liam nodded slowly, considering the compromise. "Okay, I like where your head's at. A long weekend at home. But we still need to celebrate properly. No cooking, no chores, no talking about the mortgage rates."

"Deal," Maya laughed. "What if we finally get a reservation at that tasting menu place downtown? The one we’ve walked past a hundred times. We dress up, spend way too much on a bottle of wine, and then take an Uber back to our own bed."

"Now that," Liam said, walking around the island to pull her into a hug, "sounds like a perfect five years. I'll call the restaurant tomorrow."