Maya leaned against the kitchen counter, wrapping both hands around her warm coffee mug. Outside their shared townhouse in Denver, a light drizzle was falling, making the Sunday morning feel even lazier.

"So," Maya said, watching Liam methodically scramble eggs at the stove. "Next weekend is five years."

Liam paused, spatula in hand, and glanced over his shoulder with a warm smile. "Five years. Half a decade of you stealing the good pillows. We should probably do something big, right? A weekend trip? That fancy tasting menu downtown?"

Maya considered it, taking a slow sip of her coffee. "We *could* do the tasting menu. But honestly, dropping four hundred dollars on tiny plates of foam just because society says five years is a major milestone feels a little forced."

"Thank God," Liam laughed, turning the burner off and dividing the eggs onto two plates. "I was hoping you'd say that. I love you, but I really don't want to wear a tie next Saturday."

He handed her a plate and leaned against the counter beside her.

"What if we just recreate our first date?" Liam suggested. "We can get takeout from that Thai place on 4th Street, grab a six-pack of that awful IPA we used to drink, and watch a terrible sci-fi movie on the couch."

Maya bumped her shoulder against his. "Only if we can upgrade the beer. My palate has evolved since we were twenty-eight."

"Deal," Liam said. "Good Thai food, excellent beer, terrible movie. And maybe a hike Sunday morning if the weather clears up."

"Perfect," Maya smiled, feeling a quiet swell of contentment. They didn't need a grand, expensive gesture to prove their commitment. Five years in, knowing exactly how to make each other happy was celebration enough.


The rhythmic *thwack* of Maya’s knife against the cutting board paused as she glanced at the calendar pinned to the fridge.

"Liam," she said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Next Friday is the twelfth. Five years."

Liam looked up from the mail he was sorting at the kitchen island, a water bill in one hand. A slow smile spread across his face. "Half a decade. We survived the tiny first apartment, two job changes, and assembling that Ikea bed frame."

Maya laughed, leaning against the granite counter. "We barely survived the bed frame. So, how are we doing this? It feels like a big milestone. We should do something special."

"We could finally try that tasting menu at Le Petit Chien," Liam suggested, tossing the junk mail into the recycling bin. "Dress up, get a cab downtown, go all out."

Maya hesitated, biting her lower lip. "I’d love to, but that's going to be at least three hundred dollars. With the property tax due next month, I'd rather not dip into our savings."

"Right. Responsible adulthood," Liam sighed, though not unhappily. He walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Okay, what about a day trip? We could drive up to Shenandoah on Saturday, do a long hike, and book a quaint bed and breakfast."

"I love the hiking part," Maya said, resting her head against his chest. "But honestly, I'm so exhausted from this quarter's sprint at work. What if we do the hike, but come back here? We can splurge on those expensive dry-aged steaks from the local butcher, get a really great bottle of Cabernet, and eat out on the patio under the string lights."

Liam kissed the top of her head. "Steak, wine, and my own bed? Best anniversary ever."


Rain tapped gently against the kitchen window as Maya chopped bell peppers. Across the granite island, Julian was sorting through the day's mail, tossing junk flyers into the recycling bin.

"Hey," Julian said, pausing on a glossy restaurant advertisement. "Next Friday is the twelfth. Five years."

Maya scraped the peppers into a sizzling skillet, the warm aroma of olive oil and garlic instantly filling their small Chicago apartment. "Wow. Five years since that terrible blind date at the bowling alley."

"Hey, I let you win," Julian countered, smiling as he walked over to inspect the stove. "We should do something to celebrate. Want to try that new French place downtown? I can see if they have any tables left."

Maya leaned against the counter, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She thought about the logistics—the downtown traffic, the hour-long wait, and the dent a tasting menu would put in their shared savings account right when they were trying to replace the house's aging water heater.

"Honestly?" Maya sighed. "I'm exhausted just thinking about dressing up after the week I've had at the clinic. Plus, Sarah said the French place is so loud you have to yell to hear each other."

Julian set the wooden spoon down, his expression softening. "Fair enough. What did you have in mind?"

"What if we just recreate the bowling date?" she suggested, a spark of amusement in her eyes. "We go to Pete’s Lanes, eat greasy nachos, and then come back here. We can open that good bottle of Cabernet your sister got us for Christmas and watch a movie in our pajamas."

Julian chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Nachos, rented bowling shoes, and expensive wine in sweatpants. Sounds like the perfect anniversary."

"It’s a date," Maya smiled, turning back to the stove.


The scent of roasting garlic filled the small Chicago apartment as Maya leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Liam chop vegetables.

"So, next Friday is the big day," Maya said, taking a sip of her sparkling water. "Five years. We should probably figure out what we’re doing."

Liam scraped a pile of diced bell peppers into the skillet. "I was thinking about that on the drive home. We could do a long weekend somewhere? Maybe rent an Airbnb up in Door County?"

Maya considered it, listening to the sizzle of the pan. "A trip sounds amazing, but with my quarterly reports due next week, I don't know if I can take the Friday off. Plus, we're still trying to save up for the new living room couch."

"Fair point," Liam said, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. He turned to face her, leaning against the stove. "What about that fancy tasting menu at the new French place downtown? We've been talking about it for months."

"Two hundred dollars a person, though," Maya winced playfully. "I love you, but I don't know if I 'foam-based appetizer' love you."

Liam laughed, the sound easy and familiar. "Okay, no foam. What if we recreate our first date instead? We can get takeout from that terrible Thai place, take it to the lakefront, and freeze our asses off on a park bench."

Maya smiled, feeling a warm rush of affection that five years of cohabitation hadn't dulled. "Only if we can come back here immediately after and eat it in our sweatpants while watching a movie."

"It's a date," Liam agreed, stepping over to press a quick kiss to her forehead. "Five years down. Couch Pad Thai it is."


Maya leaned against the kitchen counter, wrapping both hands around her favorite ceramic mug. Outside their shared townhouse in Denver, an unseasonably warm Saturday morning was unfolding, but her focus was locked on the dry-erase calendar on the fridge.

"Sam," she called out, turning to watch her boyfriend dry a cast-iron skillet. "Next Friday is the twelfth. Five years."

Sam paused, hanging the dish towel on the oven handle. He walked over, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist. "Half a decade," he mused, pressing a kiss to her temple. "We need to do something big. The tasting menu at that new French place downtown? Or maybe book a last-minute flight to Chicago?"

Maya smiled, leaning into his chest, but gently shook her head. "Flights are way too expensive right now, and you know how I get at those stuffy, high-end restaurants. Plus, we agreed we were trying to save for the bathroom remodel."

"Fair point," Sam conceded, his brow furrowing as he thought. "But I don't want it to feel like just another Friday night. We can't just order pad thai and fall asleep on the couch."

"What if we take the money we would have spent on a fancy dinner, and buy that vintage record player we saw at the antique mall last month?" Maya suggested. "We can finally set up a real music corner for the living room."

Sam’s eyes lit up. "I love that. And to keep it a real celebration, I’ll make my grandfather’s braised short ribs. We can crack open the nice Cabernet we brought back from Sonoma."

"Perfect," Maya said, smiling up at him. "A great dinner, no reservations required, and a gift we can keep in our home forever."

"It's a date," Sam said.


The aroma of roasting garlic filled the small galley kitchen of their Chicago apartment as Maya leaned against the counter, scrolling through her phone.

"Can you believe it’s been five years next Friday?" she asked, looking up at Liam, who was methodically chopping a red bell pepper.

Liam paused, the knife resting on the wooden cutting board. "Five years. Half a decade. We should probably do something bigger than our usual couch-and-takeout routine, right?"

Maya sighed, sliding her phone into her jeans pocket. "I was actually looking at reservations for that new rooftop place downtown, but it’s completely booked. Plus, spending three hundred dollars on dinner just feels a little... forced? Like we’re trying to prove a point."

"I agree," Liam said, scraping the peppers into the sizzling skillet. "We don't need a massive bill to validate five years of living and loving together. But I do want to mark it properly. What if we took a long weekend? We could drive up to Door County, rent a little cabin, and just unplug."

Maya’s expression softened. "A cabin sounds amazing. But what about the dogs? Boarding Buster and Luna at the last minute will be a nightmare, not to mention expensive."

Liam stirred the vegetables thoughtfully. "Okay, fair point. What if we compromise? We stay here, but we treat it like a real vacation. We turn off our phones Friday night, order from that ridiculous fusion place we’ve been dying to try, and finally open that expensive bottle of wine your brother gave us for the housewarming."

"An official staycation," Maya said, walking over to wrap her arms around his waist. She rested her chin on his shoulder. "No chores, no emails, just us."

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

"Happy anniversary. Now, don't burn the dinner."


The late October sun slanted through the blinds of their rented Seattle townhouse, illuminating the dust motes dancing above the kitchen island. Maya leaned against the quartz counter, her hands wrapped around a warm mug of coffee, while Julian scrolled through the shared calendar on his phone.

"So," Maya said, breaking the quiet hum of the refrigerator. "Next weekend. Five years."

Julian looked up, locking his screen. A small smile touched his lips. "Half a decade. We survived a cross-country move, two job changes, and the Great Ikea Wardrobe Assembly Incident."

"Barely," Maya laughed. "We should probably do something to actually celebrate this year. I was looking at that new tasting menu place downtown, but it’s almost two hundred dollars a person."

Julian winced playfully. "I love you, but my wallet just actively recoiled. What if we did a weekend trip instead? Rented an Airbnb cabin out by Mount Rainier?"

Maya considered it, taking a slow sip of her dark roast. "A cabin sounds amazing, but with my big marketing presentation on Monday, I don't want to spend four hours in the car on Sunday afternoon stressing about I-5 traffic."

Julian stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Okay, let’s pivot. What if we do a 'greatest hits' tour right here? We get the spicy drunken noodles from the Thai place we ordered from on our first night in this house, buy a bottle of that Willamette Valley Pinot we love, and finally binge that documentary series you’ve been saving."

Maya’s face brightened, the stress of the impending work week melting away. "Only if we can drag the mattress into the living room."

"Deal," Julian said, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Five years of fancy dinners is great, but five years of being perfectly comfortable with you in sweatpants? That's the real milestone."


Rain tapped against the kitchen window of their Portland apartment as Liam poured two mugs of coffee. He slid one across the granite island to Maya, who was scrolling absently through her phone.

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

Maya looked up, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Half a decade. We survived two apartment moves, one adopted terrier, and that disastrous attempt at making our own sushi."

"I still can't look at a bamboo roller the same way," Liam laughed. "But seriously, what do we want to do? I was thinking about trying to book a table at Le Pigeon. Or we could look into an Airbnb cabin on the coast for the weekend."

Maya wrapped her hands around the warm mug, considering it. "A cabin sounds amazing, but neither of us has the PTO right now with my project launch. And as much as I love getting dressed up for a fancy dinner..." She trailed off, glancing over at Buster, their terrier, who was snoring on his orthopedic bed.

"You want to stay in?" Liam guessed, his eyes crinkling.

"What if we recreate our first anniversary?" Maya suggested. "We get a pizza from that spot on 4th Street, buy a decent bottle of wine, and finally finish that giant jigsaw puzzle taking up the dining table. Just us, celebrating the home we've actually built."

Liam walked around the island and kissed the top of her head. "A twenty-dollar pepperoni pizza and a puzzle. You’re a cheap date, Maya."

"I'm a *practical* date," she corrected, leaning into his shoulder. "Plus, it means we can wear sweatpants."

"Sold," Liam said, picking up his coffee. "Five years down, and you still know exactly the way to my heart."


Rain lashed against the living room window, a stark contrast to the warmth inside where Maya and Elias were attempting to tackle a mountain of laundry.

"You realize next Saturday is the tenth, right?" Maya asked, tossing a paired set of socks into the basket. "Five years."

Elias paused, a faded t-shirt half-folded in his hands. "Five years. Half a decade of you stealing all the hot water." He smiled, setting the shirt down. "We should do something big. A Michelin-star dinner downtown? Or we could book an Airbnb up in the Catskills for the weekend."

Maya sighed, leaning back against the sofa. "The Catskills sound amazing, but with my quarterly reports due Monday, a weekend trip is going to stress me out more than relax me. And those fancy tasting menus always leave us hungry for pizza afterward."

Elias chuckled, knowing she was right. "Fair point. So, what's the middle ground? We can't just treat five years together like a regular Saturday."

"What if we recreated our first date?" Maya suggested, her eyes brightening. "But the upgraded, thirty-something version."

"Tacos from the food truck on 4th Street and getting rained out at the park?"

"Exactly," Maya said. "Except this time, we get the tacos, bring them back *here*, open that ridiculously expensive bottle of Rioja we bought in Napa last year, and eat on the floor. No phones, no talk about the electric bill or my reports."

Elias walked over and kissed the top of her head. "Tacos, fancy wine, and our living room floor. It's actually perfect. But I'm picking the movie."

"As long as it's not another three-hour documentary about submarines," Maya warned, pulling him down to sit beside her.

"Deal," Elias said. "Happy early anniversary."


Sunlight streamed through the blinds of the Chicago apartment Maya and Sam had shared for the past two years. Maya leaned against the kitchen island, nursing her mug of coffee while scrolling through a calendar app on her phone.

"So, next Saturday," she said, looking up as Sam pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge. "Five years. We should probably figure out a plan."

Sam paused, closing the fridge door with his hip. "Wow. Half a decade. Do we want to do the whole fancy dinner downtown thing? I could try to get a reservation at that new Italian place."

Maya wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. "We could. But honestly, paying two hundred dollars for pasta sounds a little exhausting right now. Plus, dealing with downtown parking on a Saturday night?"

"Good point," Sam agreed, grabbing a whisk. "What if we rented a cabin up in Wisconsin for the weekend? Just us, the dog, a fireplace, and some hiking."

"I'd love that, but I have that massive project deadline on Monday," Maya said with a sigh. "I don’t want to spend half the drive back stressing about my inbox."

Sam wiped his hands on a dish towel and stepped closer to her. "Okay, let's keep it simple. What if we stay right here? We can buy those expensive ribeyes from the local butcher, open that bottle of wine your parents got us for Christmas, and actually use our dining room table instead of eating on the couch."

Maya’s face broke into a warm, relieved smile. "A premium grocery run and staying in sweatpants? That sounds like the perfect five-year anniversary to me."

"Deal," Sam said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "But I'm still buying you flowers."


The rhythmic chopping of onions stopped as Maya wiped her hands on a dish towel and stared at the magnetic calendar on the fridge. "Leo, next Friday is the twelfth. Five years."

Leo looked up from his laptop at the kitchen island, adjusting his glasses. "Wow. Half a decade. We survived a cross-country move, two career changes, and that terrible IKEA couch."

Maya laughed, leaning against the counter. "Exactly. So, how are we celebrating? Should we finally try that French tasting menu downtown?"

Leo winced slightly, closing his laptop. "At *Le Petit Chou*? I’d love to, but honestly, dropping four hundred dollars on dinner feels steep right after we just had to replace the Subaru's alternator."

Maya nodded slowly, the excitement tempering into practical agreement. "Yeah, you're right. The mechanic bill hurt. But five years feels too big for just our usual Thai takeout and a movie."

"Agreed," Leo said. He walked over, wrapping an arm lightly around her waist. "What if we do a weekend cabin trip up in the Catskills? Just a cheap Airbnb. We can hike, bring some decent wine, and cook a nice steak dinner together. Disconnect from the Wi-Fi for a bit."

Maya’s expression brightened. She loved their shared life in the city, but the constant noise had been wearing on her lately. "A cabin actually sounds perfect. Fireplace?"

"Mandatory fireplace," Leo confirmed, smiling. "I'll start looking at listings tonight while you finish the stir-fry. Deal?"

"Deal." Maya kissed his cheek before turning back to her cutting board. It wasn't a Michelin-starred extravaganza, but standing there in the kitchen they had built together, a quiet weekend away felt like exactly what five years was meant to be.


The smell of sautéing garlic filled their cramped but cozy Chicago apartment. Julian stood at the kitchen island, rhythmically chopping bell peppers, while Maya sat at the dining table, sorting through a stack of mail.

"Can you believe it's going to be five years next Friday?" Maya asked, tossing a pre-approved credit card offer into the recycling bin.

Julian paused his prep work, resting the chef's knife on the wooden board. "Five years. Half a decade. We should probably do something a little bigger than our usual Thai takeout on the couch, right?"

Maya leaned her elbows on the table. "I was thinking about that today. We could try to snag a reservation at that new tasting-menu place downtown. But honestly, fighting Friday night traffic on the Eisenhower sounds exhausting."

"True," Julian agreed, scraping the diced peppers into the sizzling pan. "What about a weekend trip? We haven't rented a cabin in Michigan since before we signed this lease."

Maya considered it. "A cabin sounds amazing, but with my quarterly reports due next week, I don't think I can truly disconnect. I'd just be stressed out in the woods instead of stressed out in our living room."

Julian laughed, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Fair point. So, no stressful commutes, no working vacations. What if we do a hybrid? I'll pick up some prime ribeyes from the good butcher on Belmont, we open that expensive bottle of cabernet we’ve been saving since my promotion, and we actually use the fire pit out on the patio?"

Maya’s expression softened. "Only if we leave our phones inside. No work emails for either of us."

"Deal," Julian smiled.

"It’s perfect," Maya said, walking over to steal a slice of pepper and kiss his cheek. "Steak and a fire pit it is."


The Sunday morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen blinds, catching the steam rising from the French press. Liam pushed a mug across the kitchen island toward Chloe, who was scrolling absentmindedly through her phone’s calendar.

"So," Chloe said, looking up and locking her screen. "Next Saturday is the twelfth. Five years."

Liam smiled, leaning his elbows on the cool quartz countertop. "Half a decade. We should probably do something more than our usual pizza and Netflix. Did you want to look at that boutique hotel in upstate New York we talked about?"

Chloe wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic mug, considering it. "I thought about it, but honestly? Between work being chaotic this month and the fact that we just had to replace the house's furnace, a weekend trip sounds a little exhausting right now. And expensive."

"Fair point," Liam agreed. "What about a nice dinner downtown? We could try to get a table at that new French place."

"We could," Chloe said, scrunching her nose slightly. "But getting a reservation this late will be a nightmare, and downtown parking on a Saturday is awful."

Liam chuckled. "We are officially an old married couple, just without the marriage license. Too tired for trips, too annoyed by parking for nice dinners."

Chloe laughed, reaching across the island to squeeze his hand. "What if we just upgrade our usual? We can go to the farmer's market Saturday morning, buy a couple of absurdly expensive steaks, and cook them together. Open that bottle of Cabernet we brought back from Sonoma. No crowds, no parking fees."

Liam’s expression brightened. "Only if you let me make my garlic mashed potatoes. And we have to eat in the dining room, not on the couch."

"Deal," Chloe said. "Happy early anniversary."

"Happy anniversary," Liam replied, tapping his mug gently against hers.


Rain lashed against the kitchen window, blurring the streetlights of their Chicago neighborhood. Maya leaned against the counter, absently drying a ceramic bowl.

"Hey, next Friday is the tenth," she said. "Five years."

Sam looked up from the cutting board, wiping onion juice from his brow with the back of his wrist. "Wow. Half a decade. We should probably do something a little bigger than our usual pad thai takeout, right?"

"I'd like to," Maya said, putting the bowl in the cabinet. "I actually looked at flights to Asheville for a long weekend, but with my software launch at work, taking next Friday off is going to be impossible."

Sam nodded, scraping the diced onions into a sizzling skillet. "And honestly, my car desperately needs new tires before the snow starts. Maybe we save the big getaway for the spring?"

"I'm totally okay with that," Maya said, pulling a stool up to the kitchen island. "But I still want to celebrate. What if we finally go to that tasting menu place downtown? I checked on my lunch break, and they actually have a cancellation for an 8:00 PM table."

Sam paused, spatula in hand. "The one on Halsted? Isn't it practically a car payment per person?"

"It’s a splurge," she admitted with a laugh, "but we can swing it if we split it. Plus, we haven't actually dressed up since your sister's wedding."

Sam smiled, the warmth in his eyes competing with the heat of the stove. "A fancy dinner sounds perfect. We can open that nice bottle of wine your parents got us when we signed the lease, too. Drink it here while we get ready."

"It's a date," Maya said, stealing a slice of red bell pepper. "Five years. Not bad for two people who met fighting over a broken dryer."


Sunday morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of the Chicago apartment Maya and Liam had shared for the last two years. Maya leaned against the kitchen counter, wrapping both hands around the warm ceramic mug Liam had just handed her.

"So," Liam said, leaning against the refrigerator with his own coffee. "Next Friday. Five years."

Maya smiled, taking a slow sip. "Half a decade. We should probably do something a little more celebratory than our usual Friday night takeout and couch marathon."

"Agreed. I was looking at reservations at that new Italian place downtown," Liam offered, pulling out his phone to check his open tabs. "But they require a non-refundable deposit, and honestly, the tasting menu looks a little exhausting."

Maya laughed, setting her mug down. "I don't really want to spend three hundred dollars just to be rushed out of our seats after two hours. What if we took Friday off instead?"

Liam looked up, intrigued. "A long weekend?"

"Yeah. We could drive up to Wisconsin. Rent an Airbnb near the lake with a fireplace, go for a hike if the weather holds, and cook a ridiculous steak dinner together. Just the two of us, no dress code."

Liam’s shoulders visibly relaxed. The ambient pressure of orchestrating the perfect, milestone anniversary dinner completely dissolved. "That actually sounds incredible. We can stop at that fancy butcher shop on the way out of the city. Pick out a couple of dry-aged ribeyes."

"And a really good bottle of Cabernet," Maya added, stepping forward to loop her arms around his waist.

"Done," Liam said, kissing the top of her head. "I'll put in my PTO request tomorrow. Happy early five years, by the way."

"Happy early five years," Maya murmured, feeling perfectly content with exactly where they were.


Morning sunlight slanted across the subway-tile backsplash of their shared Brooklyn kitchen. Maya leaned against the counter, wrapping both hands around her coffee mug, while Liam meticulously sliced strawberries for their morning oatmeal.

“So, next Friday is the fifth,” Maya said, her tone casual but her eyes fixed on him.

Liam didn’t miss a beat, scraping the berries into two bowls. “Five years. I was looking at the calendar yesterday. Half a decade of you putting up with my snoring.”

Maya smiled, taking a sip of her dark roast. “It’s a big milestone. I feel like we should do something a little better than our usual Friday night pad thai.”

“Agreed,” Liam said. He dried his hands on a dish towel and leaned against the kitchen island opposite her. “I actually looked into getting a reservation at L’Artusi. We could do the whole wine pairing and pasta tasting menu.”

Maya tilted her head, considering it. “That sounds amazing, but honestly? It also sounds a little exhausting. Work has been so crazy this month. The idea of putting on heels and sitting in a loud, crowded dining room for three hours feels like a chore right now.”

Liam chuckled, a familiar understanding in his eyes. “Okay, fair point. What’s the alternative? We can’t just order takeout and watch Netflix for our five-year.”

“What if we drive up to the Hudson Valley?” Maya suggested, her voice brightening. “We could rent a small cabin with a fireplace for the weekend. We can hike, cook a nice steak dinner together, and actually talk without looking at our laptops.”

Liam’s shoulders relaxed. “A quiet weekend away. Just us. I like that a lot better than a three-hundred-dollar dinner.”

“I’ll look for a place tonight,” Maya said, reaching across the counter to squeeze his hand.


The clatter of Maya’s knife against the wooden cutting board paused when Liam slid a stack of sorted mail across the kitchen island.

"Hey," Liam said, leaning against the granite counter. "I was just looking at the calendar on my phone. Next Friday is the twelfth. Five years."

Maya wiped her hands on a dish towel, a soft smile breaking across her face. "Five years since we officially decided we weren't just 'hanging out.' We should probably do something a little more exciting than our usual Friday night takeout, right?"

"I'd hope so," Liam laughed. "I was thinking about that French place downtown, Le Petit. The one we used to walk past and say we'd go to when we finally had real jobs."

Maya considered it, opening the fridge to grab the bell peppers. "Le Petit sounds amazing, but getting a reservation this late might be impossible. Plus, honestly? After the month I've had at the firm, squeezing into a nice dress and shouting over a crowded dining room sounds a little exhausting."

Liam nodded slowly, already pivoting. "Fair enough. What if we go the opposite route? We could rent a cabin up in the Shenandoah for the weekend. Just us, the dog, and absolutely no cell service."

"A weekend trip?" Maya’s eyes lit up. "That actually sounds perfect. We can still make a fancy dinner together, but we can do it in sweatpants."

"Exactly," Liam said, pulling his laptop from his backpack. "I'll grill the steaks, you make your famous mushroom risotto, and we'll finally open that expensive bottle of wine your brother gave us for Christmas."

"Deal," Maya said, leaning over the island to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "Start looking for dog-friendly cabins. I'll finish chopping these onions."


Maya chopped bell peppers while Liam stirred the simmering marinara sauce. The rhythmic sounds of their Tuesday evening routine filled the small galley kitchen of their rented Seattle apartment, accompanied by the soft drumming of rain against the windowpane.

"So," Liam said, tapping his wooden spoon against the rim of the pot. "Next Friday. Five years since we made it official."

Maya paused her knife, smiling thoughtfully. "I know. Half a decade. Have you thought about what we should do? I looked online today, and that fancy French place downtown actually has a dinner reservation open."

Liam leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "We could. But honestly, with the lease renewal coming up and us trying so hard to build up the house fund... dropping four hundred dollars on a single meal feels a little steep right now."

Maya nodded in agreement, sweeping the diced peppers into a glass bowl. "You're right. As much as I love dressing up and pretending to be a snooty food critic, I'd much rather put that money into our savings."

"We definitely still need to mark the occasion, though," Liam said. He scooped up a bit of sauce and held out the spoon. "Taste test. Needs salt?"

"Just a pinch," Maya said after a quick sip. She leaned against the fridge. "What if we just recreate our first date? We can brave the weather to hit up the taco truck by the park, and then come back here to finally open that ridiculous bottle of wine your brother gave us for Christmas?"

Liam’s face lit up. "Al pastor tacos and an unnecessarily expensive Cabernet? That’s entirely us."

"Plus," Maya added with a warm grin, "we won't have to wear uncomfortable shoes, and we can watch a movie in our sweatpants."

"It's a date," Liam laughed, turning back to the stove.


Sunlight streamed through the kitchen blinds, illuminating the steam rising from Sam’s coffee mug. Maya sat across from him at their small oak dining table, her laptop open as she reviewed their shared calendar for the month.

"Next Saturday is the twelfth," Maya noted, looking up from the screen. "Five years. Half a decade of you leaving your socks right next to the hamper instead of inside it."

Sam chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "And five years of you setting three different alarms just to hit snooze on all of them. We survived each other. We should probably celebrate."

"Agreed. What were you thinking?"

"Well," Sam said, tracing the rim of his mug. "We could do a weekend trip. Drive up to the Catskills, rent a cozy little cabin? We haven't been out of the state in months."

Maya tapped her chin, genuinely considering it. "A cabin sounds amazing, but remember we just paid off that massive vet bill for the dog last month. We said we'd keep things tight until the fall."

"Right. Good point," Sam nodded. "Fancy dinner downtown, then? That new tasting menu place?"

"Maybe," Maya smiled, though her eyes lacked enthusiasm. "Honestly, I'd rather avoid loud, crowded restaurants right now. What if we just recreate our first date?"

Sam’s eyebrows knit together in mock concentration. "Spicy pork tacos from the corner food truck, eaten on a damp park bench while it drizzled?"

"Exactly," Maya laughed, closing her laptop. "But this time, we bring an actual umbrella. And maybe we splurge on a really expensive bottle of wine to drink back here on the couch afterward."

Sam’s face softened. "Tacos, rain, and overpriced wine. It’s a date." He reached across the table, squeezing her hand. "Happy early anniversary, Maya


Steam rose from the simmering pasta sauce as Liam stirred, the scent of garlic filling their small Chicago apartment. Maya leaned against the kitchen counter, scrolling through the shared calendar on her phone.

"You know," Maya said, glancing up, "next Saturday is the fifteenth. Five years."

Liam tapped the wooden spoon against the pot and smiled. "Half a decade. We should probably do something bigger than our usual pizza and a movie. What do you think? That fancy steakhouse downtown? We haven't been there since my brother’s wedding."

Maya wrinkled her nose playfully. "I thought about that, but honestly? Dropping two hundred dollars just to shout over loud jazz doesn't sound very romantic right now. Plus, I don’t want to wear heels."

"Fair point," Liam laughed, turning down the heat on the stove. "So, what’s the alternative? A weekend trip? The cabins up in Wisconsin are probably booked out by now."

"What if we just did a daytime thing?" Maya suggested, setting her phone down. "We could drive out to the botanical gardens. We haven't been since our first summer together. Bring a picnic, actually enjoy the daylight. Then we can come back here, order the ridiculous sushi boat from Kenji’s, and open that bottle of wine your parents got us for Christmas."

Liam leaned over the counter, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "Nature, raw fish, and being back in sweatpants by eight p.m. You know exactly the way to my heart."

"I should," Maya smiled, stealing a slice of raw bell pepper from his cutting board. "It's been five years, after all."

Liam nodded, turning back to the stove with a contented sigh. "Next Saturday it is. I'll pre-order the sushi; you pray for good weather."


Rain tapped lightly against the kitchen window as Maya scrolled through her calendar, a steaming mug of tea resting beside her laptop.

"Hey," she said, looking up at Sam, who was currently occupied with sorting the week's mail into 'keep' and 'shred' piles on the kitchen island. "Did you realize the twelfth is exactly two weeks away?"

Sam paused, tossing a glossy credit card offer into the shred pile. A slow, warm smile spread across his face. "Five years. Half a decade since that terrible blind date at the bowling alley."

"Exactly," Maya laughed. "So, how are we marking the occasion? I feel like five years deserves a little more than our usual Tuesday night pad thai."

Sam leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "I completely agree. We could finally do the tasting menu at that French place downtown? I know we’ve been talking about going there for months."

Maya considered it, tapping her pen against the wood. "Dinner sounds nice, but it feels a little fleeting. What if we took that dinner budget and rented a small cabin up in the mountains for the weekend instead? Just the two of us, some hiking, and maybe a fireplace?"

Sam’s eyes brightened. He abandoned the stack of mail and walked around the island, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind and resting his chin on her head. "I love that idea. We haven't been out of the city since Thanksgiving. Plus, we can still make a really great dinner together at the cabin."

"Steak and red wine?" Maya asked, tilting her head back to catch his eye.

"And a grocery store cake," Sam added, kissing her forehead. "Because neither of us should be stressing over baking on our anniversary."

"Deal," Maya said, already opening a new browser tab. "Let's find us a fireplace."


The scent of roasting garlic filled the small kitchen as Maya chopped parsley at the island. Beside her, Liam stirred a simmering pot of marinara, occasionally adjusting his glasses as the steam rose.

"So," Maya said, scraping the greens into a small bowl. "Next Friday is five years."

Liam smiled, keeping his eyes on the sauce. "Half a decade. We probably shouldn't just order Thai food and watch another true crime documentary, right?"

"I mean, we could," Maya laughed. "But maybe we should actually leave the house this time?"

They had lived in their Portland duplex for three years, their lives comfortably blending into a shared domestic rhythm. But lately, between Liam’s late hours at the architectural firm and Maya’s grueling nursing shifts, their evenings had become routines of shared exhaustion rather than romance.

"I looked at that boutique hotel on the coast," Liam offered, turning the burner down to a low simmer. "The one with the ocean-view balconies. But they want five hundred a night, with a two-night minimum."

Maya grimaced. They were currently aggressively saving for a down payment on a house of their own. "A thousand dollars just to sleep somewhere else? I can't justify pulling that from the house fund right now."

"Exactly what I thought," Liam agreed. "What if we compromise? We both take Friday off, drive up to Cannon Beach for the day, and get an absurdly expensive seafood lunch. Just us, the coast, and no emails. Then we come back to our own bed."

Maya leaned over and bumped her shoulder against his. "Oysters, a long walk on the beach, and sleeping in our own house for free? That sounds perfect."

Liam kissed her temple. "It’s a date. Now hand me that parsley before this sauce burns."


Sarah leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the evening rain blur the streetlights outside their Chicago apartment. She passed a freshly dried dinner plate to Leo, who stacked it neatly in the cabinet above.

"So," Sarah said, folding the damp dish towel. "Next Friday. Five years."

Leo paused, closing the cabinet door. "Five years of me leaving my sneakers by the front door, and you tripping over them." He smiled, stepping closer to kiss her forehead. "I was actually looking at that boutique hotel upstate. The one with the cedar hot tubs."

Sarah sighed, genuinely tempted. "I saw that place online. It looks amazing." She traced a stray water droplet on the granite. "But honestly? With the property tax bill coming next month, dropping eight hundred dollars on a weekend feels a little reckless right now."

"Fair," Leo agreed, leaning against the sink. "We did say we'd tighten the belt this spring. But five years is a big deal, Sar. We can't just order Thai takeout and fall asleep on the couch like a regular Friday."

"What if we did a 'greatest hits' tour of the city?" Sarah suggested, her eyes brightening. "We could get drinks at the dive bar where we had our first date, grab al pastor from that taco truck we lived off of when we were moving in here, and then walk by the lake. We haven't done that in ages."

Leo’s expression softened. "The dive bar still smells like stale beer and Pine-Sol, and the taco truck is definitely going to give us heartburn."

Sarah nudged him. "You love that taco truck."

"I do," Leo admitted, wrapping his arms around her waist. "It’s perfect. We save the fancy hot tubs for year ten. This year, we celebrate the fact that we still actually like each other."

"I like you most days," Sarah teased. "It's a plan."


Maya traced the rim of her coffee mug, listening to the steady drizzle against the windows of the Seattle apartment they had shared for the last three years. The grey morning light made their small, cluttered living room feel exceptionally cozy.

"Hey," Maya said, breaking the comfortable quiet of their Sunday morning. "Next Friday. Five years."

Liam looked up from his laptop, a slow smile spreading across his face. He pushed his glasses up his nose and closed the screen. "Half a decade. I was just looking at the calendar. Do you want to do a big dinner downtown? Maybe finally try that ten-course tasting menu at The Corson?"

Maya considered it, pulling her feet up onto the sofa cushions. "The Corson sounds amazing, but honestly? Getting dressed up and fighting downtown traffic on a Friday night sounds exhausting. I want to celebrate us, but I don't want to be stressed doing it."

"Fair point," Liam agreed, walking over to join her on the couch. "So, what's the alternative? We can't just treat five years like a regular weekend. No sweatpants allowed."

Maya laughed, leaning into his shoulder. "Okay, no sweatpants. What if we do a weekend getaway instead of a dinner? We haven't been out to the Olympic Peninsula since we first signed the lease. We could rent a little cabin, do a day hike if it stops raining, and just drink overly expensive wine by a woodstove."

Liam’s eyes lit up. "I actually love that idea. But only if we stop at that terrible diner with the amazing cherry pie on the way up. The one where my car broke down on our third date."

"Deal," Maya said warmly. "I'll search for a cabin today, and you map out the pie route."

Liam kissed the top of her head. "Five years. I'll get the route ready."


The smell of roasting garlic filled their small galley kitchen as Maya leaned against the counter, watching Ben wrestle with a stubbornly tight jar of pasta sauce.

"So," Ben grunted, finally coaxing a satisfying pop from the lid. "Next Friday. Five years."

Maya smiled, taking the jar from him to pour over the simmering onions. "Half a decade. Are we supposed to do something incredibly expensive to prove we’re still happy?"

Ben grabbed a kitchen towel and leaned against the fridge. "My mom subtly hinted that five years is 'diamond territory.' I reminded her we just dropped three grand on a new HVAC system."

"Nothing says romance like central air," Maya laughed, stirring the sauce. "But seriously, do we want to do the whole downtown steakhouse thing? We haven't done a massive night out since year two."

Ben thought about it, watching the evening light filter through their living room blinds. "Honestly? The thought of fighting traffic and wearing a tie on a Friday night sounds exhausting. What if we took the money we'd spend on a fancy tasting menu and finally booked that little A-frame cabin near Shenandoah for the weekend?"

Maya paused her stirring, her eyes lighting up. "Wait, really? Just hike, drink wine on a porch, and ignore our emails?"

"Exactly," Ben said. "And for the actual anniversary on Friday night, we can just order pad thai from the place on 4th Street and watch a terrible horror movie. A nod to our first date."

"You were so nervous you spilled peanut sauce on my rented couch," Maya teased, bumping her hip against his.

"And you stayed with me anyway," Ben smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Cabin and takeout?"

"Cabin and takeout," Maya agreed. "Happy almost-anniversary."


The scent of garlic filled the kitchen as Maya stirred the simmering pasta sauce. Liam was leaning against the kitchen island, sorting through the day's mail.

"Hey," Maya said, tapping her wooden spoon against the pot's rim. "Next Friday is the twelfth. Five years."

Liam looked up from a stack of grocery circulars, a soft smile breaking across his tired face. "Five years. Half a decade. We should do something big. What if we finally book that weekend cabin up in the Adirondacks? Take Friday off, bring the dog, just completely unplug."

Maya lowered the heat on the stove, genuinely considering it. "I love the cabin idea, Liam, I really do. But taking Friday off right before my quarterly reports are due is going to stress me out. Plus, the Subaru still needs those new brake pads before we do any serious mountain driving."

Liam nodded, tossing the junk mail into the recycling bin. "Fair point. I don't want you spending our anniversary worrying about spreadsheets. What if we do a really nice dinner downtown instead? We could try the tasting menu at Overture."

Maya turned to him, her eyes brightening. "Overture? We’ve been talking about going there since we signed the lease on this house. We can dress up, get a great bottle of wine, and still come back here to our own bed."

"Exactly," Liam said, stepping over to wrap an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'll look online and make the reservation right now. And maybe we save the mountain cabin for the six-year mark."

Maya leaned into his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his cedarwood soap. "It's a date. Now, hand me the dinner plates."


Sunlight streamed through the blinds of their Portland duplex, catching the steam rising from the French press. Ben pushed a freshly poured mug across the kitchen island toward Elena.

"Happy Saturday," he said, stifling a yawn. "Got any big plans for the weekend?"

Elena wrapped both hands around the warm ceramic. "Just laundry and grocery shopping. But we do need to figure out next weekend. It’s our five-year anniversary, remember?"

Ben smiled, leaning against the counter. "Of course I remember. Half a decade. That’s a big one. I was thinking we could finally try that tasting menu at Le Pigeon. Get dressed up, do the whole nine yards."

Elena took a thoughtful sip of her coffee. "A fancy dinner sounds amazing, but it’s so expensive. And honestly? I spend all week in heels for work. The idea of dressing up on a Saturday night sounds a little exhausting right now."

"Fair point," Ben said, nodding. "What did you have in mind?"

"What if we just packed up the Subaru and drove out to the coast? We could rent a cheap Airbnb in Cannon Beach for the night, grab some clam chowder, and build a fire on the beach."

Ben’s eyes crinkled at the corners. He looked around the kitchen, thinking about the life they had built together in this rental—the mismatched furniture, their shared rescue dog currently snoring on the rug, the quiet comfort of their daily routine. A flashy, expensive dinner didn't really fit who they were anyway.

"You know," Ben said, reaching over to squeeze her hand, "that sounds perfect. Clam chowder, sweatpants, and a beach fire. I’ll look up some cabin rentals right now."

Elena grinned, pulling her laptop across the island. "I’ll check the weather. Five years, Ben. Can you believe it?"

"Best five years of my life," he replied.


Maya sat cross-legged on the faded blue sofa, nursing her second cup of Sunday coffee. The gentle hum of the refrigerator filled the quiet living room of the Chicago apartment she shared with Leo.

"So," Maya said, peering over the top of her laptop. "Next month is five years."

Leo looked up from the stack of mail he was sorting at the kitchen island, adjusting his glasses. "The twentieth. A Tuesday this year, right?"

"Yep. I was looking at nice restaurants downtown, but honestly, dropping three hundred dollars on a Tuesday night tasting menu feels a little exhausting just thinking about it."

Leo walked over and dropped onto the sofa beside her, resting his head on her shoulder. "I agree. Plus, we'd be rushing back on the train just to wake up for work at six." He sighed, tapping a rhythm on his knee. "Five years is a big deal, though. We shouldn't just order pad thai and watch a movie like a regular weekend."

Maya turned the laptop screen toward him. "What if we took that Friday off and drove up to Wisconsin? I found this little A-frame cabin near Lake Geneva. It’s got a fire pit, a hot tub, and it’s actually cheaper than doing a fancy dinner and a hotel in the city."

Leo scanned the photos of the cozy, wood-paneled bedroom and the small deck overlooking a line of pine trees. A slow smile spread across his face. "We could pick up steaks from the local butcher on the way up," he suggested. "And maybe splurge on a really good bottle of wine."

"Exactly," Maya smiled, feeling the familiar, warm comfort of their partnership.

"Book it," Leo said, leaning in to kiss her temple. "Five years of putting up with me deserves at least a quiet weekend in the woods."


Rain tapped steadily against the kitchen window of the Seattle townhouse Maya and Liam had been renting for the past three years. Liam dried the last ceramic dinner plate and glanced at the calendar pinned to the fridge.

"Hey," he said, turning around. "The twelfth is only two weeks away. Five years."

Maya looked up from the spreadsheet on her laptop, pushing her glasses up her nose. A warm smile broke across her face. "Wow. Half a decade. We should definitely do something bigger than our usual neighborhood Thai place."

"Agreed," Liam said, leaning against the quartz counter. "I was actually looking at flights to Charleston this morning, but with car insurance due and us trying to aggressively pad the house fund..." He trailed off, giving a slight, apologetic shrug.

Maya nodded in immediate understanding, gently closing her laptop. "Yeah, domestic flights are outrageously priced right now anyway. But I still want to get out of the city. What if we just rent a cabin up in the Cascades? Leave on Friday after work, come back Sunday."

Liam’s expression brightened, and he tossed the dish towel onto the rack. "A cabin. Hiking, a woodstove, zero cell service?"

"Exactly," Maya said. "We can buy those obscenely expensive ribeyes from the butcher down the street and cook them ourselves. Finally open that fancy bottle of Cabernet your brother got us for Christmas."

"That actually sounds perfect," Liam said, pulling his phone from his pocket. "Let me see what's available online. We want a hot tub, right?"

"Non-negotiable," Maya laughed, walking over to wrap her arms around his waist. "Five years is a big milestone. I want to celebrate us, but I want to actually relax while we do it."

Liam kissed the top of her head, leaning into her embrace. "A quiet, unplugged weekend in the woods it is. I'll book it right now."


Steam rose from the pot of boiling pasta as Maya leaned against the kitchen counter, wiping down the granite. Across the small kitchen of their rented Portland duplex, Ben was scrolling through his calendar on his phone.

"Hey," Ben said, glancing up. "Next Saturday is the twelfth. Five years."

Maya paused, tossing the dish towel over her shoulder. "Five years of putting up with your habit of leaving socks on the coffee table. We should probably commemorate that milestone."

Ben laughed, walking over to stir the penne. "I was thinking the same. Do we want to go all out? We could book a table at that fancy French place downtown, or maybe find an Airbnb on the coast for the weekend."

Maya sighed, considering it. "I’d love the coast, but honestly, next week is quarter-end at work. I'm going to be completely exhausted by Friday. Plus, we're supposed to be aggressively padding the house fund."

"Fair point," Ben said, adjusting the stove’s heat. "No expensive weekends. But I refuse to just order pad thai and watch Netflix like it’s a random Tuesday. What’s the middle ground?"

"What if we recreate our first road trip?" Maya suggested, her eyes brightening. "We could drive up to Astoria for the day. Walk the riverfront, get fish and chips at that little boat stand, and just be back here by evening."

Ben smiled, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. "And we can splurge on a nice bottle of wine to drink on the patio when we get back. No packing, no crazy expense, but definitely a celebration."

"Perfect," Maya said, stepping forward to wrap her arms around his waist. "Astoria and good wine. Happy almost-anniversary."

"Happy almost-anniversary," Ben replied, just as the pasta water boiled over with a sharp hiss.


Maya leaned over the kitchen island, staring thoughtfully at the magnetic calendar on the fridge. "Sam, next Friday is the twelfth."

Sam looked up from his laptop, pausing his typing. "Five years. Half a decade." He smiled, adjusting his glasses. "Are we doing the traditional overpriced steakhouse, or do you want to switch it up?"

"God, no steakhouse," Maya laughed, walking over to the couch and sinking down beside him. "Last year we could barely hear each other over the jazz band, and I'm pretty sure my risotto was mostly just butter."

"It was *excellent* butter," Sam pointed out, closing his laptop. "But I agree. So, what's the plan? We could drive up to the mountains. Take a long weekend?"

Maya hesitated, pulling a throw blanket over her lap. "I have that massive quarterly review on Monday. I don't want to spend Sunday night stressed about traffic on the drive back."

Sam nodded, understanding the reality of her schedule. "Fair enough. What if we do a 'greatest hits' tour of the city instead?"

Maya raised an eyebrow. "Explain."

"We recreate our first date," Sam said, turning to face her. "Tacos from the food truck on 4th Street, followed by getting aggressively competitive at the arcade bar downtown. Then, we come back here to our own couch, open that fancy bottle of wine your sister got us for Christmas, and watch a terrible sci-fi movie."

Maya’s face lit up. It was perfectly them—unpretentious, a little chaotic, and deeply familiar. "Tacos, arcade, terrible aliens. It's a date."

Sam leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Happy early five years, Maya."

"Happy five years," she replied, resting her head on his shoulder. "Now, remind me which taco truck gave you food poisoning on year two, just so we can avoid it."


Maya leaned against the kitchen counter, idly drying a ceramic bowl while Liam chopped bell peppers for their Tuesday night stir-fry. Outside their shared townhouse, the late autumn wind rattled the windows.

"So," Maya started, setting the bowl down. "Next weekend. Five years."

Liam paused his knife, glancing up with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Five years. Half a decade of you stealing all the hot water. We should probably do something big, right? Dinner at that tasting menu place downtown?"

Maya winced playfully. "Le Petit Oiseau? I looked at the menu. It’s two hundred dollars a person, Liam, and that’s before the wine pairing. Honestly, the thought of dressing up and eating foam exhausts me."

"Fair enough," Liam laughed, scraping the peppers into a hot skillet. The loud hiss filled the kitchen. "No foam. What then? A weekend cabin up in the Catskills? We haven't been hiking since the spring."

"I'd love a cabin," Maya said, stepping closer and stealing a slice of raw pepper from the cutting board. "But it's supposed to rain all weekend. What if we just stay here?"

Liam raised an eyebrow. "Staycation for our five-year?"

"Hear me out," she said, leaning against his shoulder. "We turn off our phones Friday night. We order takeout from that ridiculous loaded fries place we went to on our first date, open the good bottle of Malbec we’ve been hoarding, and finally build those patio chairs sitting in the garage. Together."

Liam stirred the vegetables, considering it. He bumped his hip gently against hers. "Loaded fries, red wine, and Swedish furniture assembly? You really know how to romance a guy."

"It’s a relationship survival test," Maya joked.

"I'm in," Liam smiled. "Happy almost-anniversary, Maya."


Rain pelted against the kitchen window of their shared duplex as Maya and Leo tackled the Sunday chore of folding laundry. Between matching mismatched socks, Maya glanced at the calendar pinned to the refrigerator.

"Hey," she said, tossing a towel into the basket. "Next Friday is the tenth. Five years."

Leo paused, a faded band t-shirt half-folded in his hands. "Five years. Half a decade of you putting up with my terrible taste in movies." He smiled, setting the shirt down. "We should do something big to celebrate. We could rent that A-frame cabin upstate? Or finally try that Michelin-star tasting menu downtown."

Maya leaned against the counter, weighing the options. "A cabin sounds amazing, but with Buster's stomach issues lately, boarding the dog feels like a hassle. And honestly? The thought of wearing heels and paying four hundred dollars for tiny plates of foam sounds exhausting after the week I've had at the clinic."

"Fair point," Leo said, stepping closer and wrapping a warm arm around her waist. "So, no mountains, and no microscopic desserts. What's the perfect five-year plan, then?"

Maya looked around their slightly messy, deeply loved kitchen. "What if we recreate our first date? But upgraded. We make the famously dry chicken tacos you cooked when we first met, except this time we actually use seasoning. We buy a ridiculously expensive bottle of wine with the money we save on going out, and we eat on the living room floor."

Leo chuckled, his eyes softening as he pulled her a little closer. "Upgraded tacos and an overpriced Cabernet. I can definitely live with that. But I’m buying out the gourmet cheese aisle for an appetizer."

"Deal," Maya said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "It’s a date."


The smell of dark roast coffee filled the narrow kitchen of Maya and Liam’s Seattle duplex. Rain drummed softly against the windowpanes, a familiar backdrop to their lazy Saturday mornings.

Maya leaned against the counter, warming her hands around her ceramic mug. "You know next Friday is the big five, right?" she asked, watching Liam carefully flip a pancake.

"Five years," Liam mused, sliding the pancake onto a plate and turning off the stove. "Half a decade of you stealing all the blankets. We should probably do something special."

"I was thinking about that," Maya said, taking a seat at the small wooden table they’d refurbished together when they first moved in. "We could try to get a reservation at that new French place downtown. Or, we could try to rent a cabin in the Cascades for the weekend."

Liam sat down across from her, pushing the maple syrup across the table. "The cabin sounds amazing, but honestly, neither of us has the PTO right now with my software update launching on Thursday." He paused, thoughtfully chewing a bite of his breakfast. "And the French place is an option, but do we really want to spend three hundred bucks to eat tiny portions in stiff clothes on a Friday night?"

Maya laughed, a warm, easy sound. "Fair point. So, what’s the alternative? Sweatpants and Pad Thai?"

"What if we recreate our first date?" Liam suggested, his eyes lighting up. "We get a ridiculously large pepperoni pizza from Mario's, grab a six-pack of that local IPA we like, and finally finish that terrible 80s sci-fi movie we fell asleep during."

Maya smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. "Pizza, bad aliens, and you. Honestly, that sounds like the perfect way to celebrate."


The rhythmic *thwack* of Maya’s chef’s knife against the cutting board filled the kitchen. At the island, Liam was sifting through the Tuesday mail, separating utility bills from junk.

"Hey," Maya said, pausing to sweep diced onions into a skillet. "Did you realize next Saturday is the twelfth? It’s our five-year."

Liam looked up, tossing a glossy circular into the recycling bin. "Wow. Five years. I knew it was coming up, but this week completely snuck up on me." He walked over, leaning against the counter beside her. "We should do something big. Maybe finally try that tasting menu at L’Oursin downtown?"

Maya stirred the onions, the savory smell filling the apartment. "I'd love to, but honestly? Dropping three hundred dollars on dinner feels like a lot right now, especially with us trying to aggressively pad the house fund."

"Fair point," Liam agreed, running a hand through his hair. "We don't need a massive dinner bill to validate five years of putting up with each other. What if we took the dogs back up to Mount Si? We could pack a ridiculous amount of good cheese, maybe a thermos of hot cider, and hike the trail we did on our third date."

Maya smiled, turning the heat down on the stove. It was perfectly them—active, a little frugal, but undeniably romantic. "Only if we can stop at the diner on the way back for milkshakes. Just like last time."

"Deal," Liam said. He leaned in to kiss her cheek, entirely undeterred by the lingering smell of raw onions. "Five years. No rings, no mortgage yet, but I wouldn't trade this kitchen for anywhere else."

"Me neither," Maya said, handing him a wooden spoon. "Now stir."


Rain lashed against the windows of their second-floor Chicago apartment, but inside, the kitchen smelled warmly of roasting garlic. Maya leaned against the counter, watching Sam chop bell peppers with a focused frown.

"So," Maya said, taking a sip of her wine. "Next Friday. Five years."

Sam paused his chopping and looked up, a smile breaking his concentration. "Five years of me leaving the kitchen cabinets open, and you somehow not changing the locks."

"It’s a minor miracle," she agreed. "But seriously, we need a plan. I was looking at that boutique hotel up in Michigan. The one with the cedar hot tubs."

Sam wiped his hands on a dish towel, leaning next to her. "I looked at that one too. But honestly? It’s almost four hundred dollars a night. With the car repair we just paid for, it feels a little tight."

Maya sighed, her shoulders dropping slightly. "I know. You're right. I just wanted it to feel special. Five years is a big deal. Half a decade of mostly blissful, unwedded partnership."

"It *is* a big deal," Sam said, wrapping an arm around her waist. "What if we make it special here? We always say we're going to try making homemade pasta from scratch, but we're always too tired. Let’s take Friday off. Both of us. No laptops, no work emails. We buy the expensive wine, get flour everywhere, and spend the whole day just being together."

Maya pictured their galley kitchen dusted in white, the two of them tangled up in dough and laughter. It didn't cost four hundred dollars a night, but it sounded entirely like them.

"A long weekend," Maya mused, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "And you do the dishes?"

"Deal," Sam said, kissing her temple. "Happy early anniversary."


The scent of roasting garlic filled the narrow kitchen of Maya and Liam’s Portland townhouse. As Liam stirred the simmering pasta sauce, Maya leaned against the granite counter, scrolling through their shared digital calendar.

"So," Maya said, tapping her phone screen. "Next Saturday. Five years since that terrible blind date at the bowling alley."

Liam chuckled, adjusting the heat on the stove. "Hey, I got a strike. Eventually. What’s the plan? Do we want to do the whole downtown tasting-menu thing again? I think my wallet is still recovering from year three."

"Absolutely not," Maya groaned. "I spent half that dinner worrying about spilling wine on my silk dress. But five years is a big deal. We should do something more than our usual takeout and a movie."

Liam tasted the sauce, then offered the wooden spoon to Maya. She blew on it, took a sip, and nodded her approval.

"What if we rented a cabin?" Liam suggested, tossing a kitchen towel over his shoulder. "Up near Mount Hood? Just for the weekend. We can take the dog, build a fire, and actually unplug. No reservations, no dressing up."

Maya’s face lit up. "A cabin. Just us, Buddy, and an obscene amount of junk food. We could even stop by that little roadside diner we found on our first road trip."

"The one with the huckleberry pie?"

"Exactly." Maya set her phone face-down on the counter, the digital calendar forgotten. She walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. "It’s perfect. It feels like us."

"Cabin it is," Liam said, smiling as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "I’ll look up rentals after dinner. Now, grab the plates, before this sauce burns."


Morning sunlight slanted through the blinds of the Craftsman bungalow Maya and Julian had shared for the past three years. Julian sat on their worn velvet sofa, tapping his pen against a legal pad, while Maya watered the trailing pothos by the window.

"So, seven years next weekend," Julian said, looking up. "We need a plan. Are we doing the fancy tasting menu downtown again? I should probably try to snag a reservation today before they book up."

Maya paused, the small copper watering can hovering over the soil. Seven years felt significant—a sturdy, undeniable milestone that seemed to demand a bit of fanfare. Yet, looking around their cozy, lived-in living room, a high-end dinner suddenly felt a bit stiff.

"Honestly? I'm kind of exhausted just thinking about dressing up, fighting traffic, and paying for parking in the city," Maya said, wiping a stray drop of water from the windowsill. "What if we just stayed in?"

Julian chuckled, leaning back. "A stay-in anniversary? Are you sure? I don't want you thinking I'm cheaping out on lucky number seven."

"I don't," Maya smiled, crossing the room to sit beside him. "But think about it. We could take that restaurant money, go to the artisanal butcher on Main Street, and buy those ridiculous dry-aged ribeyes we always stare at but never get."

Julian’s eyes immediately lit up. "And a really good bottle of Cabernet. Maybe that one from Napa we had on our first road trip to California."

"Exactly," Maya agreed, resting her head on his shoulder. "We cook together, put on the record player, and actually hear each other talk without shouting over restaurant music."

Julian wrote *Ribeyes & Napa Cab* on the top line of his empty legal pad. "Perfect," he said, kissing her temple. "Best seven-year anniversary ever."


Rain lashed against the kitchen window of Maya and Liam’s rented Seattle duplex, completely drowning out the soft jazz playing from their smart speaker. Maya leaned against the quartz counter, watching Liam chop bell peppers with a familiar, rhythmic precision.

"So," Maya started, taking a sip of her Pinot Noir. "Next weekend. Five years."

Liam scraped the peppers into the sizzling skillet, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. He looked up, a warm smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Five years of me stealing all the blankets. We need a game plan. What are you thinking? That fancy tasting menu downtown?"

Maya frowned playfully. "I looked at the menu for that place. It’s two hundred dollars a person, Liam. I love you, but I also love our savings account."

"Fair," Liam laughed, stirring the vegetables. "We could do a weekend out on the Olympic Peninsula? Get an Airbnb with a hot tub?"

"Also tempting, but the forecast looks terrible, and the ferry traffic will be a nightmare on a Friday." Maya set her wine glass down and stepped closer, stealing a piece of raw bell pepper from the cutting board. "What if we just recreate our first date? Right here."

Liam paused, his spatula hovering over the pan. "Thai takeout and building that terrible IKEA TV stand?"

"Exactly," Maya beamed. "Well, maybe we skip the Swedish furniture assembly. But we can order from Siam Palace, buy a ridiculous thousand-piece puzzle, and turn off our phones. Just us, in the home we built."

Liam’s shoulders relaxed. He wrapped an arm around her waist, kissing the top of her head. "Pad Thai, a jigsaw puzzle, and cheap wine. Happy early anniversary, Maya."

"Happy early anniversary," she murmured, leaning into his chest as the kitchen filled with the comforting scent of garlic and rain.


Liam stood at the kitchen island, chopping bell peppers while Maya leaned against the refrigerator, scrolling through a shared calendar on her phone. Outside their Chicago apartment, the October wind rattled the windowpanes.

"Next Friday is the twelfth," Maya said, looking up. "Five years. We should probably figure out what we’re doing."

Liam scraped the peppers into a sizzling skillet. "Five years. That feels like a milestone we shouldn't just gloss over. Are you thinking a weekend trip? We could drive up to Door County, maybe get a cabin."

Maya sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. "I’d love to, honestly, but I have that massive quarterly report due for work on Monday. I don't think I can truly unplug for a whole weekend right now."

"Fair enough," Liam said, lowering the heat on the stove. He grabbed a kitchen towel and wiped his hands. "How about a really nice dinner out, then? We haven't been to that French place downtown since my birthday. I can see if they have a cancellation."

Maya smiled, but she looked around their cozy, dimly lit kitchen. "We could do that. Or..." she hesitated. "What if we just recreate our first date? Right here. We order that greasy deep-dish from Luigi's, buy a cheap bottle of Chianti, and watch a terrible 80s sci-fi movie."

Liam chuckled, leaning across the island to kiss her forehead. "I'm pretty sure I spilled wine on your rug that night."

"You did," Maya laughed. "But it’s *our* rug now, so if you ruin it this time, you're paying for the steam cleaning."

"Deal," Liam said, his eyes crinkling with affection. "Luigi's, cheap wine, and bad aliens. It's a date. Happy five years to us."


The morning sun warmed the kitchen as Maya leaned against the counter, cradling her coffee mug. She tapped the calendar on the fridge. "Hey, can you believe it’s been five years next Saturday?"

Liam looked up from his laptop at the dining table, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Five years. That’s half a decade of you putting up with my snoring. We should do something big. Do you want to finally try that tasting menu at The Birch Room?"

Maya frowned playfully, considering the idea. "We could. But honestly? Dropping three hundred dollars on tiny portions and having to wear heels doesn’t sound as fun as it used to."

"Fair enough," Liam agreed, closing his laptop. "But we can't just order pad thai and fall asleep watching Netflix on the couch, either. It’s a major milestone. We need to actually celebrate."

"What if we recreate our first road trip?" Maya suggested, her eyes brightening. "We could drive up the coast to Big Sur for the weekend. Just book a quiet Airbnb, take the dog, and actually unplug for two days."

Liam leaned back in his chair, picturing it. Their shared life in San Francisco was loud and fast-paced; the idea of quiet pine trees and crashing waves felt like a much-needed exhale. "No cell service," he mused. "Just us, the beach, and maybe a horribly expensive bottle of wine we buy on the way to make it feel fancy?"

"Exactly," Maya laughed, walking over to wrap her arms loosely around his shoulders. "Sweatpants, a beach fire, and an overpriced Pinot."

"It’s a date," Liam said, leaning his head back to kiss her cheek. "I’ll start looking for a cabin with a fire pit right now."


The smell of dark roast coffee filled the sunlit kitchen as Leo leaned against the island counter, sliding a warm mug toward Maya. She looked up from her laptop, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Next Friday is the big day," Leo said, crossing his arms. "Five years."

Maya smiled, wrapping her hands around the ceramic. "Half a decade. And three years since we signed the mortgage on this place. We should probably do something more exciting than ordering pad thai and falling asleep on the sofa."

"Agreed. Though I do love the pad thai," Leo laughed. "I was looking at the tasting menu at The Birch Room downtown. It’s expensive, but five years is a real milestone."

Maya winced slightly, a natural reflex after months of them carefully budgeting for a backyard renovation. "The menu there looks amazing, but dropping four hundred dollars on a single dinner feels a little steep right now. What if we took Friday off work instead?"

Leo tilted his head, intrigued. "A long weekend?"

"Yeah. We could drive up to that little A-frame cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The one we rented our second year together. We can hike, bring the dog, and grill steaks on the deck."

Leo’s expression softened. He imagined the crisp mountain air and the blessed lack of cell service. It sounded exactly like what they needed. "That actually sounds a lot better than wearing a stiff shirt to a crowded restaurant."

"Right?" Maya tapped a few keys on her laptop, opening a new browser tab. "Let me see if it’s available."

Leo walked around the island and kissed the top of her head. "Deal. But I’m still buying a very expensive bottle of wine to take with us."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Maya said, already scrolling through the availability calendar.


Rain lashed against the living room window of their rented duplex, but inside, the kitchen smelled warmly of roasting garlic. Maya leaned against the counter, watching Liam stir the pasta sauce.

"You realize next Friday is five years, right?" Maya asked, taking a sip of her sparkling water. "Half a decade."

Liam paused, the wooden spoon hovering over the pot. "Five years. Wow. I was thinking we could drive up to the mountains. Rent a cabin for the weekend."

Maya smiled, though her shoulders tensed slightly. "A cabin sounds amazing, but with my quarterly reports due and your car needing those new brake pads... maybe a weekend trip is a stretch right now?"

Liam nodded slowly, returning to his stirring. "Yeah, you're right. Money's a little tight this month. But we can't just do takeout and a movie. It’s five years, Maya. It’s a big deal."

"It is a big deal," Maya agreed, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around his waist. "What if we compromise? We don't need to leave town, but we shouldn't just stay in sweatpants, either."

Liam turned his head to look at her, a familiar grin spreading across his face. "Dress up? Like, actual hard pants?"

"Actual hard pants," Maya confirmed with a laugh. "Let's get reservations at that little Italian place downtown—the one where we had our first date. We can split that absurdly expensive tiramisu, and then come back here and finally open the fancy bottle of wine your parents got us for Christmas."

Liam kissed her forehead. "First date pasta, good wine, and sleeping in our own bed. Honestly? That sounds better than a cabin anyway."

"Perfect," Maya said, stealing a taste of the simmering sauce. "It’s a date."


Rain tapped gently against the kitchen window of their Portland duplex as Maya poured a second cup of coffee, sliding it across the butcher-block island to Liam.

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

Liam looked up from his tablet, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Half a decade. We survived the pandemic in a tiny apartment, two major career changes, and your endless obsession with propagating house plants. I think that warrants a real celebration."

"I was thinking about that," Maya said, tracing the ceramic rim of her mug. "My mom texted yesterday asking if we were booking a flight to Hawaii or Paris. I think she still expects some massive, cinematic grand gesture."

Liam chuckled, setting his screen down. "Well, Paris is a little out of the budget since we just had to replace the furnace. But I agree we shouldn't just do our usual Thai takeout on the couch, either. We need to mark the occasion."

"Agreed. What about a long weekend up at Mt. Hood? We haven't been back to that little A-frame cabin since our first year together."

Liam’s eyes lit up. "The one with the drafty windows and the woodstove that took me three hours to light?"

"The very same," Maya laughed. "We can pack a cooler of good food, leave the laptops behind, and just actually be together. No work emails, no house chores."

"I love it," Liam said. He reached across the island, his fingers catching hers. "Let's compromise. We'll do a fancy dinner out on Thursday night right here in the city—my treat—and then head up to the mountain on Friday morning."

Maya squeezed his hand, feeling the solid, comfortable weight of their shared life. It wasn't Paris, but as she looked around the warm kitchen they had built together, she knew it was exactly what she wanted.


Maya sat cross-legged on the faded gray sofa, her laptop balanced precariously on her knees. The comforting smell of roasting garlic drifted in from the kitchen, where Liam was stirring pasta sauce.

"Hey," Maya called out, tapping the edge of her screen. "Next Friday is the twelfth. Five years."

Liam appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a striped dish towel. He smiled, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Half a decade of cohabitation and surviving each other's terrible morning moods. We should probably do more than our usual takeout pad thai, right?"

"I was thinking the exact same thing," Maya said, closing the laptop. "I actually looked up that new French tasting-menu place downtown. But honestly? It's two hundred dollars a person, and I’m exhausted just thinking about wearing heels after the week I've had."

Liam chuckled and walked over, sinking into the cushions beside her. "Fair enough. We could do a weekend trip instead? Rent a little cabin out in the mountains?"

Maya leaned her head on his shoulder. "That sounds amazing, but we haven't finished paying off the emergency plumbing bill yet. I kind of want to just be here, but make it actually feel like an event."

"Okay, how about this," Liam said, wrapping an arm around her. "We take next Friday off. Both of us. No laptops, no work emails. We sleep in, drive down to the fancy butcher shop on Main Street, buy those outrageously expensive dry-aged ribeyes we always stare at, and cook a massive dinner together."

Maya’s eyes lit up. "And we finally open the vintage Bordeaux your brother bought us for the housewarming?"

"Exactly," Liam said. "A five-star experience, strictly in sweatpants."

"It's a perfect date," Maya smiled, kissing his cheek. "Now go check the sauce before our regular Tuesday dinner burns."


Rain tapped against the kitchen window of their Portland duplex as Liam dried the last ceramic plate. Maya was wiping down the countertops, the familiar, quiet routine of their Tuesday nights settling around them.

"So," Liam said, hanging the damp dish towel on the oven handle. "Next weekend. Five years."

Maya paused, tossing the sponge into the sink. "I know. Half a decade. Do we feel older?"

"My lower back certainly does," Liam laughed, leaning against the counter. "I was thinking we should do something big. Maybe book that boutique hotel out in Hood River? Get a tasting menu, pretend we're fancy for a night."

Maya smiled, stepping over to wrap her arms around his waist. The idea sounded romantic, but the reality of driving two hours after a grueling work week felt exhausting. "Hood River is beautiful, but honestly? The thought of packing an overnight bag right now makes me want to take a nap."

"Fair point," Liam conceded, resting his chin on her head. "No packing. But we can't just order our usual Thai takeout and watch reality TV. Not for five years."

"What if we recreate our first date?" Maya suggested, looking up at him. "We can take the MAX line downtown to that arcade bar. Eat overpriced soft pretzels, play Pac-Man until our thumbs hurt, and then come back to our own bed."

Liam smiled, his eyes lighting up. Their first date had been loud, chaotic, and completely perfect. "Only if I get a rematch in Mario Kart. You completely humiliated me last time."

"Deal," Maya laughed. "And maybe we *can* order Thai takeout for Sunday. A celebratory hangover lunch."

"Arcade games, pretzels, and Pad Kee Mao," Liam said, kissing her forehead. "Happy five years to us."


Rain patted softly against the living room window of the duplex Maya and Leo had shared for the past two years. Maya sat cross-legged on the sofa, scrolling through her phone’s calendar, while Leo graded high school history papers at the coffee table.

"Hey," Maya said, tapping Leo's knee with her foot. "Next Friday is the twelfth. Five years."

Leo looked up, capping his red pen. A slow smile spread across his face. "Half a decade. That snuck up on us. We should probably do something bigger than our usual takeout and a movie, right?"

"Probably," Maya agreed, setting her phone down. "Sarah suggested we go up to the mountains for the weekend. Rent a little cabin."

Leo leaned back, rubbing his tired eyes. "A cabin sounds amazing, honestly. But with midterms next week, I don't know if I have the mental energy to pack and drive three hours on a Friday afternoon. What if we finally try that Michelin-starred place downtown?"

Maya wrinkled her nose playfully. "Those tasting menus always leave me hungry, and I really don't want to wear heels after being on my feet all week. What if we just splurge on really good ribeyes, a stupidly expensive bottle of wine, and cook together? We can put on the playlist from our road trip to Maine."

Leo chuckled, reaching out to squeeze her ankle. "So, our usual Friday night, but with premium ingredients and a specific soundtrack?"

"Exactly," Maya smiled. "Plus, no phones allowed. Just us."

"I love it," Leo said, looking at her with the comfortable, deep affection that had grown between them over the last five years. "You still know exactly how to plan my perfect night. I'll pick up the wine on Thursday."


Maya sat cross-legged at the kitchen island, staring at the calendar app on her laptop. Across the counter, Sam was rhythmically chopping bell peppers for their Tuesday night stir-fry.

"So," Maya said, pushing her screen away. "Next Friday is the big five. Half a decade."

Sam paused his knife, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Five years. We should probably do more than order Thai food and fall asleep to a documentary, right?"

"Probably," Maya agreed. "I was looking at that boutique hotel in the Catskills, but honestly? It’s almost four hundred dollars a night. With us trying to save for the house down payment, it feels a little irresponsible right now."

Sam scraped the peppers into the sizzling skillet. "Fair point. What about getting a reservation at Le Petit Chou downtown? We haven't been there since my promotion."

Maya leaned her chin on her hand, thinking. "We could. But you know what sounds even better? What if we just take Friday off work? A three-day weekend, just us. We can hike the Ridge Trail in the morning, make those absurdly complicated homemade pizzas for dinner, and finally open that expensive bottle of wine your parents got us."

Sam turned off the stove vent to hear her better, his eyes softening as he considered the idea. "No cell phones? No checking work emails?"

"Absolutely no emails," Maya confirmed. "Just us, the dog, and a ridiculous amount of mozzarella."

Sam walked around the island and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "A Friday hike, homemade pizza, and saving money for our actual house. Sounds like the perfect way to celebrate surviving five years with me."

Maya laughed, bumping her shoulder against his. "It’s a date."


Rain lashed against the kitchen window, blurring the Seattle skyline. Maya leaned against the counter, wrapping both hands around her favorite ceramic mug.

"So, next Saturday," she said, watching Liam meticulously slice a bagel. "Five years. Do we have a plan, or are we doing our usual mutual procrastination?"

Liam chuckled, popping the bagel halves into the toaster. "I was actually going to ask you about that. I looked at reservations at *Le Petit Oiseau*, but honestly? It’s almost two hundred dollars a person and requires a jacket."

Maya wrinkled her nose. "I love you, but I don't want to wear Spanx on our anniversary. Plus, remember how stuffy that place was when we went for Valentine's Day?"

"Exactly," Liam agreed, wiping the cutting board. "So I was thinking, what if we just rent a cabin out by Mt. Rainier? Take the dog, hike if the weather holds, and build a fire if it doesn't."

Maya’s posture softened. It had been five years since their first date at that loud, sticky-floored arcade downtown, and two years of sharing a lease, splitting grocery bills, and figuring out how to blend their daily routines. They didn't need a white-tablecloth dinner to validate their commitment to each other.

"A cabin sounds perfect," Maya said. "But we have to cook something slightly elevated. No frozen pizzas. I’ll make my short rib ragu."

"Deal. I'll handle the wine and the playlist." Liam retrieved his bagel, offering her a bite before taking one himself. "Should I book the one with the outdoor hot tub?"

"Is that even a question?" Maya smiled, stealing a piece of his breakfast. "Book it before I change my mind and demand Paris."

He bumped his hip against hers. "Cabin first. Paris for year ten."


Maya leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Sam chop onions for their Tuesday night stir-fry. "Hey," she said, tapping the side of her mug. "Next weekend is the tenth. Five years."

Sam paused, resting the knife on the cutting board, and wiped a stray tear from his eye—partly from the onions, partly from the sudden realization. "Five years," he repeated, smiling. "Half a decade of me leaving my mail on the coffee table and you pretending you don't steal all the blankets."

"I don't pretend," Maya laughed. "But seriously, what are we doing? Five years feels like a big one. We should actually plan something."

"It is a big one," Sam agreed, sweeping the chopped onions into a hot cast-iron skillet. "We could do the tasting menu at that new French place downtown. Get dressed up, spend way too much money on tiny plates of food."

Maya crinkled her nose. "We could. But honestly? The thought of wearing heels next Friday sounds exhausting after the week I've had. What if we took a long weekend away instead? Drive up to a cabin in the Catskills?"

Sam stirred the sizzling vegetables, considering the idea. "A cabin trip. Fireplace, hiking, zero cell service." He looked over his shoulder at her. "Are we bringing the dog?"

"Obviously," Maya said, walking over to wrap her arms around his waist from behind. "It wouldn't be our anniversary without Buster trying to eat a pinecone."

Sam chuckled, leaning back into her embrace. "Okay. Let's do the Catskills. We can pick up those expensive steaks from the butcher on Main Street, grab a nice bottle of wine, and just exist for a few days."

"Perfect," Maya murmured. "Five years, no heels, good steaks."

"I'll book the rental after dinner," Sam promised. "Happy almost five years, Maya."


Rain lashed against the living room window of their Chicago apartment, but inside, the glow of the television kept things cozy. Maya scrolled through her phone while Liam folded a pile of laundry on the coffee table.

"So, the fifteenth is two weeks away," Maya said, glancing up. "Five years. That feels like a big one."

Liam paused, a pair of socks in his hands. "It is a big one. We survived a cross-country move, two terrible landlords, and your stint in grad school." He tossed the socks into the basket. "Did you want to do something huge? A weekend trip? I looked at cabins in Wisconsin, but the prices are kind of crazy right now."

Maya shifted on the couch, pulling a throw blanket over her knees. "Honestly? With the kitchen renovation eating into our savings, a trip feels stressful right now. But I don't just want to do our usual takeout and a movie, either. I want it to feel special."

"Fair enough," Liam agreed, abandoning the laundry to sit next to her. "What if we do a really nice dinner out? Like, tasting-menu nice. We haven't done that since before we moved in together."

Maya’s eyes lit up. "Ooh, that French place downtown? The one with the ridiculous wine pairings?"

"Exactly," Liam smiled. "We dress up, spend way too much on food, and then come back here to our very own, very expensive, unfinished kitchen."

"It’s a date," Maya said, bumping her shoulder comfortably against his. "But no physical gifts this year, deal? The dinner is the gift."

"Agreed. Unless you count me finally finishing the trim on the cabinets as a gift."

Maya laughed, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I absolutely count that as a gift. Don't think you're getting out of it."


Maya scraped the diced onions into the sizzling skillet, the savory smell filling their small Chicago apartment. At the kitchen island, Leo sifted through a stack of mail, tossing grocery flyers into the recycling bin.

"Hey," Leo said, pausing on the electric bill. "Next Friday is the fourteenth. Five years."

Maya wiped her hands on a dish towel and smiled. "Half a decade. We survived a pandemic, two apartment moves, and your brief but chaotic obsession with sourdough. We definitely need to celebrate."

"Agreed," Leo said, leaning his elbows on the quartz counter. "What are you thinking? We could finally try that tasting menu downtown. Or is that too much?"

Maya considered it, stirring the onions with a wooden spoon. "It’s tempting, but honestly? Dropping five hundred dollars on one dinner stresses me out a little right now, especially with the car needing new tires."

"Fair point," Leo nodded, abandoning the mail. "We don’t need to go crazy to make it special. What about a weekend trip? We could rent a cabin up in Door County. Just us, the hiking trails, and some decent wine."

"I'd love that, but getting Friday off this close to the end of the quarter is going to be impossible for me," Maya sighed.

Leo walked over, wrapping an arm around her waist as she lowered the heat on the stove. "Okay, compromise. Next Saturday, we drive up to the lake, do a massive day hike, and splurge on a really good seafood dinner before driving back. No overpriced hotels, no PTO required."

Maya leaned into his shoulder. "A mini road trip, fresh air, and oysters? That sounds exactly like us."

"Perfect," Leo said, kissing the top of her head. "I'll make the dinner reservation, you pick the trail."


Maya leaned against the granite kitchen counter, scrolling through the calendar on her phone. Sunday morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of the Chicago apartment she’d shared with Julian for the past two years.

"Hey," she said, tapping the screen. "Next Saturday is the twelfth. Five years."

Julian looked up from the stove, spatula in hand, the scent of sizzling bacon filling the small space. He smiled, a soft, familiar crinkle forming at the corners of his eyes. "Five years since we met at that terrible dive bar in Wicker Park. We should do something big. A weekend up in Door County? Or maybe that new tasting menu downtown?"

Maya took a sip of her coffee, thinking it over. "The tasting menu sounds amazing, but wasn't it almost two hundred dollars a person? We just transferred a huge chunk of our paychecks into the house fund."

"True," Julian said, sliding the bacon onto a paper towel. "And honestly, after the month I've had at the firm, the idea of packing a weekend bag and driving three hours north in traffic sounds more exhausting than romantic."

"Same," Maya agreed. "I want to celebrate us, but I want to actually relax."

Julian plated their breakfast and leaned against the counter next to her. "What if we compromise? We skip the road trip, but we still dress up. We go to that nice Italian place at the end of our street. Then we come back here, finally open that bottle of wine we brought back from Sonoma last year, and turn off our phones for the entire night."

Maya smiled, bumping her shoulder against his. "Carbs, the good wine, and my favorite person on our own couch? That’s exactly what I want."


Rain lashed against the kitchen window of their Portland duplex, but inside, the smell of dark roast coffee made the morning feel warm. Maya leaned against the counter, passing a steaming mug to Julian.

"So," Maya said, blowing on her coffee. "Next weekend. Five years."

Julian took the mug, his thumb casually brushing hers. "Half a decade. Are we doing the fancy steakhouse downtown? We talked about dressing up for once."

Maya sighed, looking past him to the small stack of mail on the dining table—mostly utility bills and a catalog they hadn't asked for. "I know we said we would, but spending two hundred dollars on dinner feels like a lot right now. Especially after replacing the tires on the Subaru."

"Fair point," Julian said, leaning against the counter next to her. He didn't look disappointed; if anything, he looked relieved. "To be honest, the idea of wearing a tie on a Friday night wasn't thrilling me anyway. What’s the alternative? A weekend trip to the coast?"

"Too much driving," Maya countered, a small smile playing on her lips. "What if we just... stay here?"

Julian raised an eyebrow. "Stay here? For our five-year?"

"Hear me out. We go to the Italian market on 4th Street, get the good prosciutto, the expensive fresh pasta, and a bottle of wine that actually has a cork. We cook together. No phones, no talking about work. We can finally use the fireplace."

Julian looked around their small, slightly cluttered, perfectly lived-in kitchen. He pictured the two of them navigating the tight space, the warmth of the stove, and the quiet intimacy they had built over five years of shared rent and shared lives.

"Fresh pasta," Julian agreed, clinking his mug against hers. "But we still dress up. At least a little."

"Deal," Maya laughed.


Maya leaned against the kitchen island, scrolling idly on her phone while Liam dried the last of the Tuesday night dinner plates. Rain pelted their Chicago apartment window, making the warm kitchen feel even cozier.

"Hey," Maya said, looking up from the screen. "Next Friday is the tenth. Five years."

Liam draped the dish towel over the oven handle and stepped over to lean beside her. "I know. Half a decade. We survived a pandemic, two miserable apartment moves, and your obsession with true crime podcasts."

Maya nudged his shoulder with her own. "Barely. So, what are we doing? My mom texted asking if we're going to that ridiculously expensive steakhouse downtown."

"Do we want to do the fancy steakhouse?" Liam asked, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not against it, but paying forty dollars for a side of asparagus always hurts my soul."

Maya laughed. "Mine too. Plus, putting on heels and navigating the L train on a Friday after work sounds exhausting right now."

"We could do a weekend trip," Liam suggested. "Drive up to Wisconsin? Rent a little cabin?"

"Maybe," Maya sighed, looking across the room at their shared living space. "Honestly, we finally got the new sectional delivered, and I kind of just want to enjoy our apartment. What if we compromise? We order takeout from that amazing Italian place, open the good bottle of wine we bought in Napa last year, and actually put our phones away for the entire night."

Liam smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Carbs, expensive wine, and sweatpants?"

"No phones," she reminded him.

"Deal. I'll make the reservation for our coffee table."

Maya smiled, leaning into him. Five years felt significant, but right now, a quiet night in the home they had built together felt like the perfect way to honor it.


Rain drummed against the living room window of the Seattle duplex Maya and Julian had shared for the past three years. Maya looked up from her laptop, the bright screen illuminating her face in the dimly lit room.

"So, next Saturday is the fifth," she said, folding the computer shut. "Five years. Do we have a game plan?"

Julian set his book down on the coffee table and stretched his arms overhead. "I was actually thinking about that on my drive home. We could try to get a last-minute reservation at that new French place downtown? The one with the tasting menu."

Maya wrinkled her nose playfully. "Two hundred dollars a person just to leave hungry? Plus, we’d have to wear hard pants."

Julian laughed, rubbing his tired eyes. "Fair point. What about a weekend trip to the coast? We could rent a little cabin."

"I'd love that, but it's a four-hour drive, and you have that massive project deadline on Monday. I don't want you stressing about work the whole time." Maya shifted closer on the sofa, resting her stockinged feet in his lap. "What if we just did an upgraded version of our regular Saturday? Sleep in, get pastries from the good bakery, and then finally tackle the pasta maker your mom got us for Christmas?"

"Homemade ravioli," Julian mused, a warm smile spreading across his face. "We can splurge on the nice wine, the one we had in Sonoma, and cook together. I'll even put on the playlist from our first road trip."

"Exactly," Maya said. "Low stakes, high quality."

"It’s a date," Julian agreed, his hands gently wrapping around her ankles. "Five years down, and I really just want to hang out in sweatpants with you."


The aroma of roasting garlic filled their cramped Seattle kitchen as Liam leaned against the counter, a wooden spoon in hand.

"Hey," he said, turning the heat down on the stove. "We need to talk about next weekend. It’s five years."

Maya looked up from her laptop, pushing a stray curl behind her ear. The glow of the screen faded as she closed it, resting her elbows on the kitchen island. "I know. Half a decade. It feels like we should do something bigger than our usual Thai takeout."

"Agreed," Liam said, carefully stepping over their golden retriever, Barnaby, who was fast asleep on the linoleum. "I looked at reservations for Le Coin, but a tasting menu feels a little stiff. Plus, it's easily three hundred dollars a person."

Maya wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, I'd rather put that toward the mortgage. Or finally getting a new couch." She walked over, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. "What if we just get out of the city? Just the two of us."

Liam stirred the pasta sauce, thinking it over. "Like a cabin? I could check if there's anything available near Mount Rainier. We could hike, build a fire, and actually unplug."

"That sounds perfect," Maya said, resting her chin on his shoulder. "We can bring that expensive bottle of wine your sister got us for Christmas. We'll make our own fancy dinner. Steaks in a cast-iron skillet."

"You're on dish duty, then," Liam teased, turning his head to kiss her cheek.

"Deal," she smiled.

It wasn't a grand European vacation or a surprise proposal, but as Maya opened her laptop to search for cabin rentals and Liam began plating the pasta, it felt exactly right for them.