The scent of dark roast coffee filled the kitchen of Maya and Liam’s Chicago apartment. Rain tapped against the frosted window, a typical chilly April morning. Maya leaned against the granite counter, warming her hands around her ceramic mug.

"So, next weekend is the big five," she said, watching Liam carefully scrape scrambled eggs from a cast-iron skillet onto two plates.

"Five years," Liam mused, handing her a plate. "Half a decade of me leaving my boots in the hallway, and you pretending not to notice."

"Oh, I notice," Maya laughed, nudging his shoulder. "But seriously, what are we doing? We haven't actually planned anything."

They moved to the small dining table, sliding into their usual seats. Liam thoughtfully chewed a bite of his breakfast. "We could try for that tasting menu downtown. I know we talked about going all out this year."

Maya hesitated, tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "I looked at the reservations. It’s completely booked for Saturday, and honestly? Dropping five hundred dollars on dinner right after we just paid for those car repairs feels a little stressful."

"Fair point," Liam agreed, nodding easily. "We don't need a fancy dinner to validate five years. What if we recreate our first road trip instead? We could drive up to Door County, get a cheap Airbnb by the water, and just hike."

Maya’s face lit up, the financial tension instantly leaving her shoulders. "I love that idea. Just us, the dog, and a ridiculous amount of wine and cheese from that little farm stand."

"Exactly," Liam smiled, pulling his phone from his pocket. "Let’s see what's available. We can hit the road Friday after work."

Maya reached across the table, squeezing his hand. It wasn't a diamond ring or a Michelin-starred meal, but as they scrolled through cozy weekend cabins together, she knew it was exactly the celebration they needed.


Morning sunlight poured through the kitchen blinds as Maya set two mugs of dark roast coffee on the granite island. Across from her, Liam was scrolling absentmindedly through his phone, pausing suddenly on the calendar app.

"Hey," Liam said, looking up. "Next Friday. It's five years."

Maya stopped wiping the counter, a soft smile breaking across her face. "Five years since we officially decided to tolerate each other full-time. We should probably do something slightly more special than our usual Friday night Pad Thai."

"I was thinking the exact same thing," Liam agreed, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. "We could book an Airbnb up the coast? Head up to Carmel for the weekend?"

Maya sighed, leaning against the counter. "I'd love that, I really would. But after replacing the house's HVAC unit last month, our joint savings account is looking a little sad. Maybe we stay local?"

"Fair point. Fancy dinner downtown?"

"Honestly, paying a hundred dollars for a steak doesn't sound that fun either," Maya said, taking a sip of her coffee. "What about recreating our first date? Tacos from that truck by the pier, then taking a walk by the water?"

Liam chuckled. "Maya, that taco truck closed two years ago. It’s a boutique pet bakery now."

"Right. I forgot."

"Tell you what," Liam offered, his eyes brightening with a sudden idea. "What if we make the tacos ourselves? We'll find a recipe for al pastor, put on that terrible mid-2000s indie playlist we listened to on the drive, and finally open that bottle of Cabernet we bought in Napa."

Maya’s smile returned, wider this time. "Home-cooked tacos, old playlists, and actual good wine? It’s a date." She reached across the island to squeeze his hand. "Happy early anniversary."


Maya chopped bell peppers at the kitchen island while Liam leaned against the counter, scrolling through the calendar on his phone.

"Hey," Liam said, looking up. "Next weekend is the twelfth. Five years."

Maya paused her chopping, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Five years. Half a decade since that terrible bowling date."

"I let you win," Liam teased, stealing a slice of red pepper from the cutting board. "So, what’s the plan? We should do something big. Maybe book a weekend trip up to Napa? Or finally try that Michelin-starred tasting menu downtown?"

Maya wiped her hands on a dish towel, leaning her weight against the granite. "Napa sounds amazing, but with the new furnace installation we just paid for, maybe we shouldn't splurge quite that hard right now. And honestly, a three-hour stiff-collar dinner sounds exhausting after the week I've had at the clinic."

Liam nodded, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "Fair point. I don't really want to wear a tie on our anniversary anyway."

"What if we keep it local?" Maya suggested, stepping closer to him. "We could hike up to the observatory in the morning. Then, for dinner, we get takeout from the Thai place we ordered from the first night we moved in here, and crack open that expensive bottle of wine your sister got us for Christmas."

Liam wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in. "A hike, Pad Thai, and fancy wine in our sweatpants. That actually sounds perfect."

"We can even play the bowling game on the Switch," Maya laughed. "So I can beat you again."

"Deal," Liam said, kissing her forehead. "I'll put the wine in the fridge. Five down, a lifetime to go."


Maya leaned against the granite kitchen island, the steam from her coffee mug fogging the lenses of her glasses. "Hey," she said, tapping her phone screen. "Did you realize the twelfth is next Friday?"

Leo looked up from the stove, where he was expertly flipping a pair of over-easy eggs. He paused, spatula in hand, and did the mental math. "Wait. That’s five years."

"Half a decade," Maya agreed, a soft smile breaking across her face. "Since that terrible blind date at the bowling alley."

Leo slid the eggs onto two plates and brought them over. "I thought my rental shoes added a certain rustic charm," he joked, sliding onto a barstool beside her. "So, what’s the plan? We should probably do something bigger than our usual Thai takeout, right? Five years feels like a real milestone."

Maya cut into her breakfast, watching the yolk spill over her toast. "It does. I actually looked up that French place downtown, but the tasting menu is almost two hundred dollars a person. With us trying to save for a better car right now, it feels a little irresponsible."

"Fair," Leo said, chewing thoughtfully. "What if we compromise? We don't need a Michelin star to celebrate. How about we look for a cheap cabin near Shenandoah for Saturday night? We can hike during the day, grill some nice steaks together, and just actually unplug."

Maya’s eyes lit up. Between her grueling nursing shifts and Leo’s endless remote meetings, uninterrupted time was a rare luxury. "No laptops?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Absolutely no laptops," Leo promised, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "Just us, the mountains, and a decent bottle of wine."

"Perfect," Maya said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "But I'm picking the wine."


The rhythmic chopping of onions filled the small galley kitchen as Maya prepared Tuesday night’s chili. Sitting at the cramped breakfast bar, Liam tapped away on his laptop, occasionally reading off the upcoming weather forecast.

"It’s going to rain all weekend," Liam noted, closing his browser. "Which makes me think we need a solid plan for Saturday. It’s five years, Maya. Half a decade."

Maya scraped the diced onions into the sizzling cast-iron pot, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "I know. I was looking at that French place downtown, *Le Petit Chou*. But honestly? The tasting menu is two hundred dollars a person."

"Yeah, and you hate wearing heels," Liam pointed out with a wry smile.

"Exactly." Maya leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. "I want to celebrate us, but I don't want to feel stiff. And honestly, part of me wants to just take that money and put it toward the deck repair."

Liam chuckled, shutting his laptop completely. "Nothing says romance like pressure-treated lumber. But no, we aren't doing house chores for our anniversary. We need an actual memory." He paused, looking at the rain-streaked window over the sink. "What about a cabin up in the Catskills? Just a cheap Airbnb, a woodstove, and whatever wine we can grab at the grocery store. No reservations, no dress code."

Maya’s face softened, the stress of the workday visibly melting away. "We haven't been to the mountains since we first signed the lease on this place."

"Exactly," Liam said, pulling out his phone to start searching. "I’ll find us a place with a decent kitchen. You bring your chili recipe, I’ll handle the playlist."

Maya smiled, walking over to press a quick, garlic-scented kiss to his forehead. "Perfect. Five years, and you finally learned my ideal date."


The rhythmic chop of Liam’s knife against the cutting board filled the small kitchen. From the living room sofa, Maya looked up from her laptop, the glow of the screen reflecting in her glasses.

"Hey," she called out, stretching her arms above her head. "Next Saturday is the fifteenth."

Liam paused, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel, and walked over to lean against the doorway. "Five years. Half a decade. We should probably do something a little bigger than our usual pizza and weekend errands."

"Agreed," Maya smiled. "But how big? I know we talked about finally trying that new French tasting menu downtown."

Liam considered it, crossing his arms. "We did. But it’s almost two hundred dollars a person. With us trying to build up the house down-payment fund, I don't know if I can stomach a four-hundred-dollar dinner right now."

"Honestly, I’m relieved you said that," Maya sighed, closing her laptop. "I want to celebrate us, but I don't want to stress about our budget while we're eating."

"What if we compromise?" Liam suggested, walking over to sit beside her on the cushions. "We don't do the crazy expensive restaurant, but we don't just sit on the couch, either. We could drive up to the state park for a long hike in the morning, the way we did on our first anniversary."

"And for dinner?" Maya asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We get takeout from that amazing sushi place—the one that’s a little too pricey for a regular Tuesday—and finally open that bottle of wine your parents gave us for Christmas."

Maya’s smile widened, and she leaned over to rest her head against his shoulder. "A hike, fancy sushi in our sweatpants, and free wine. It sounds like the perfect five years."


Maya leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Ben chop bell peppers for their Tuesday night fajitas. The sizzle of the pan filled their small Chicago apartment, a familiar soundtrack to their shared routine.

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

Ben paused, his knife hovering over the cutting board, and smiled. "Five years. Half a decade since that terrible blind date at the bowling alley."

"I still maintain you let me win," she laughed. "But we need a plan. Are we doing the fancy dinner thing? Steaks, white tablecloths, stressing over finding parking downtown?"

Ben swept the peppers into the skillet. "We could. But honestly, dropping two hundred dollars just to eat a tiny steak sounds exhausting right now. Plus, we're supposed to be saving for the new sofa."

Maya nodded, secretly relieved. She loved dressing up, but the pressure of a milestone anniversary often felt forced, especially at the end of a long work week. "Agreed. What if we took Friday off instead? A long weekend, just us."

"A staycation?" Ben asked, turning the stove down to a simmer.

"Exactly. We can drive up and hike the trails at Starved Rock in the morning before the crowds get there. Then we come back, order an absurd amount of takeout from that Thai place we love, and finally open the good bottle of wine my parents gave us for Christmas."

Ben wiped his hands on a dish towel, walking over to wrap his arms loosely around her waist. "Hiking, Pad Thai, and not wearing real pants by six p.m.? It sounds perfect."

"It's a date, then," Maya said, leaning into him. Five years hadn't brought a ring or a mortgage yet, but as she breathed in the familiar scent of spices and him, she knew exactly where she wanted to be.


The morning sun angled through the kitchen blinds, warming the worn oak table where Maya and Liam sat with their Sunday coffee. Between them rested a shared calendar app on Liam’s tablet, the upcoming Friday circled in digital red. Five years.

"So," Liam said, leaning back in his chair and wrapping both hands around his mug. "Half a decade. Do we want to do the tasting menu at Le Petit Corbeau? I know we talked about it back in January."

Maya paused, her thumb hovering over the rim of her cup. She looked around their kitchen, eyes lingering on the half-painted cabinets they’d been working on all month. "I thought about it," she admitted. "But honestly? Dropping three hundred dollars on tiny plates feels like a lot right now. Especially with the hardware store trips we've been making."

"Fair point," Liam smiled, looking entirely relieved. "I love you, but I wasn't looking forward to wearing a tie after the week I've had."

"Me neither. Heels are definitely out," Maya laughed. "What if we do something a little closer to home? We could finally use that pasta maker your mom got us for Christmas. Grab a really good bottle of Barolo, make a massive mess of the kitchen..."

"And then completely refuse to clean it up until Saturday morning?" Liam offered, raising an eyebrow.

"Exactly." Maya reached across the table, lacing her fingers through his. "Maybe we can drive up to the state park on Saturday, take the dog on the long trail, and just unplug for the day."

"Homemade pasta and a hike." Liam squeezed her hand. "It sounds perfect. I'll pick up the wine on Thursday. You find a recipe that won't completely intimidate us."

"Deal," she said, the fancy restaurant already forgotten, perfectly content exactly where they were.


The smell of roasting garlic filled the kitchen as Mark stirred the simmering pasta sauce. Sitting at their shared butcher-block island, Lena sifted through the Tuesday mail, tossing a stack of grocery circulars into the recycling bin.

"Hey," Lena said, pausing on a utility bill. "Next Friday is the twelfth. Five years."

Mark lowered the heat on the stove and turned around, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Half a decade. We should probably do something special, right? I can look at Airbnbs up in Asheville for the weekend."

Lena smiled, tapping her pen against the countertop. "I'd love that, but honestly, after paying for the new water heater last month, a mountain weekend feels a little steep right now. What if we just do a really nice dinner out? We haven't been downtown in ages."

"We could finally try that tasting menu at The Alder," Mark suggested, leaning against the counter. "Though, I have to admit, my secret backup plan was opening that expensive bottle of Cabernet we brought back from California, ordering a ridiculous amount of sushi, and not putting on hard pants."

Lena laughed, instantly recognizing the appeal of the second option. They had bought the house together two years ago, intertwining their lives and finances without the traditional fanfare of a wedding. Their favorite moments together were usually the quietest ones.

"How about a compromise?" Lena asked. "We actually get dressed up, go to The Alder for fancy cocktails and appetizers at the bar, and then come back here for the Cabernet and the sushi by the fire pit?"

Mark’s face lit up. "Best of both worlds. I'll make the reservation for the drinks." He turned back to the stove. "Five years. Not bad, roomie."

"Not bad at all," she replied.


Rain lashed against the living room window of their Chicago apartment, but inside, the smell of roasting garlic made the space feel warm. Maya leaned against the kitchen island, watching Liam stir the simmering pasta sauce.

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

Liam looked up, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Half a decade. We probably shouldn't just order Thai food and fall asleep to a true-crime documentary like last year."

"Hey, I liked that documentary," Maya laughed, setting her glass down. "But yes, I agree. We should do something actual. A milestone requires leaving the house."

"I looked into that fancy tasting menu downtown," Liam offered, turning down the heat on the stove. "But honestly? It’s four hundred dollars a person, and I think I'd rather put that toward the new couch fund."

Maya visibly relaxed. "Oh, thank God. I was looking at weekend cabins in Wisconsin, but the decent ones are completely booked, and the rest look like horror movie sets."

Liam chuckled, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "So, no Michelin stars and no haunted cabins. What’s the middle ground?"

Maya thought for a moment, listening to the rain hit the glass. "What if we recreate our first date? Go to that cramped little bowling alley, drink terrible draft beer, and then get late-night tacos at the truck on 4th Street?"

"Only if I get to beat you by forty points again," Liam teased, walking around the island to wrap an arm around her waist.

"It was twenty points, and I was distracted," Maya replied, leaning into his shoulder.

"Bowling and tacos it is," Liam said softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Happy early anniversary."


The morning sun warmed the terra-cotta tiles of Maya and Liam’s kitchen as they navigated their familiar Sunday routine. Maya leaned against the counter, nursing a mug of dark roast, watching Liam expertly flip a pancake.

"So," Maya said, tracing the rim of her mug. "Next weekend. Five years."

Liam glanced up, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Half a decade. It feels like we should do something a little bigger than our usual couch-and-takeout routine." He slid the pancake onto a plate. "We could drive up to the Berkshires? Get a cabin with a fireplace for the weekend?"

Maya considered it, looking around the kitchen they had painstakingly renovated together last summer. "A trip sounds amazing, but honestly, between my project deadline and your parents visiting the week after, packing and driving might just stress us out."

Liam wiped his hands on a dish towel and leaned next to her. "Fair point. So, what’s the alternative? Fancy tasting menu downtown?"

"Maybe," Maya said, nudging his shoulder with hers. "Or... we could recreate the night we first moved in here. Remember? We had no furniture, just the mattress on the floor in the living room."

Liam chuckled. "And we ordered from that terrible Thai place down the street."

"Exactly. But instead of terrible pad thai, we finally attempt that ridiculous beef Wellington recipe we’ve been intimidated by," Maya suggested. "Buy a great bottle of wine, turn off our phones, and actually use the dining room."

"A culinary challenge and zero packing," Liam said, his eyes lighting up. "I like it. But I'm buying a really good bottle of wine. Top-shelf."

"Deal," Maya smiled, lifting her coffee mug to clink against his glass. "Happy almost five years."

"Happy five years," Liam replied, pulling her in for a quick, flour-dusted kiss.


The scent of roasting garlic filled their cramped Seattle kitchen as Maya chopped celery and Liam stirred the risotto.

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

Maya paused her knife, glancing up at him. "I know. Half a decade. Have you thought about what we should do?"

"I was looking at that new French place downtown," Liam offered, leaning against the counter. "Le Petit Chalet? But reservations are booked out for a month, and honestly, a hundred dollars for a steak feels steep right now with the roof repairs."

Maya nodded, scraping the chopped vegetables into a bowl. "Agreed. I love a good dinner, but I don't want to spend our anniversary stressed about the credit card bill."

"We could do a quick weekend trip," Liam suggested. "Drive down to Portland? Get a nice Airbnb?"

"With my big quarterly presentation on Monday? I'd be distracted the whole time." Maya set her knife down and wiped her hands on a dish towel. She walked over, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. "What if we just keep it simple? We could take Friday off, hike the Rattlesnake Ledge trail like we did on our first date, and then order excessive amounts of Thai takeout."

Liam smiled, covering her hands with his own. "Hike in the morning, pad thai in sweatpants by evening?"

"Exactly. Plus, we still have that cheap bottle of prosecco we bought on New Year's and never opened."

"It’s a date," Liam said, turning his head to press a kiss to her cheek. "Honestly, that sounds way better than a fancy steak anyway."

Maya smiled, returning to her cutting board. Five years in, she thought, and they still knew exactly how to make each other happy.


Sunlight streamed through the kitchen blinds, illuminating the steam rising from Maya’s coffee mug. She leaned against the counter, watching Liam scrape the last of the scrambled eggs from the cast-iron skillet onto their plates.

"So," Maya said, taking a warm sip. "Next weekend. Five years."

Liam smiled, handing her a plate. "Five years of you stealing all the hot water. We should probably do something to celebrate. A Michelin-star dinner? A weekend trip to Napa?"

Maya chuckled, taking a seat at their small wooden dining table. "Napa sounds amazing, but with the bathroom renovation eating up our savings, I think flights to California are out of the question."

"Fair point," Liam said, sitting across from her. "And honestly, those fancy tasting-menu places always leave me needing a slice of pizza on the drive home anyway. What if we kept it local?"

"Local is good," Maya agreed, cutting into her eggs. "But I don't want to just do our usual Friday night Thai takeout and a movie. Five years of living in sin is a big deal."

Liam thoughtfully tapped his fork against his plate. "Remember that little A-frame cabin we rented up in the Catskills our second year together? The one with the drafty windows but the amazing fire pit?"

Maya’s eyes lit up. "I loved that place. We spent the whole weekend playing Scrabble and drinking cheap wine."

"I looked it up last night," Liam confessed, his smile widening. "It’s actually available next weekend. We could drive up Friday after work, grill out, and just be together. No renovation dust, no work emails."

Maya reached across the table, her fingers interlacing with his. "A quiet weekend in the woods sounds perfect. Book it."

Liam squeezed her hand. "Done."


Maya sat cross-legged on the faded gray sofa, her laptop glowing in the dim light of their Seattle apartment. Across the coffee table, Julian was meticulously sorting a stack of mail, tossing supermarket flyers into the recycling bin.

"Hey," Maya said, looking up from her screen. "Next weekend is the twelfth. Five years."

Julian paused, a handful of envelopes in his hand. He smiled, the lines around his eyes crinkling. "Half a decade. We should probably do more than order Pad Thai and fall asleep to a nature documentary this time."

"Agreed," Maya laughed, closing her laptop. "I was thinking maybe a weekend trip? We could drive up to the San Juan Islands. Rent a little cabin."

Julian sat down next to her, slinging an arm over the back of the couch. "A cabin sounds amazing, but with the Subaru needing new brakes next month, maybe we should keep it local. What if we finally do a really nice dinner downtown? That French place we’ve been pointing at since we moved in together."

Maya leaned her head against his shoulder, considering it. "It's pretty expensive, but definitely cheaper than a weekend getaway."

"Exactly," Julian said. "And we can actually dress up. I haven't worn a suit since my sister's wedding, and you have that velvet dress you bought for New Year's."

"Okay, fancy French dinner it is," Maya agreed, lacing her fingers through his. "But we are absolutely getting a good bottle of wine to split here on the patio beforehand."

"Deal." Julian kissed the top of her head. "I'll make the reservation tomorrow. Five years, Maya. That's a big one."

"It is," she said softly, squeezing his hand. "Pad Thai on the thirteenth, though?"

"Obviously."


Rain lashed against the living room window, blurring the streetlights of their Seattle neighborhood. Maya sat cross-legged on the sofa, her laptop glowing in the dim room, while Leo methodically folded laundry on the floor.

"So, next Friday is five years," Maya said, glancing up from her budgeting spreadsheet. "We should probably figure out what we’re doing before all the good dinner reservations are gone."

Leo paused, a half-folded towel in his hands. "Five years. It feels like we should do something bigger than just a regular dinner, right? But I also don't really want to spend four hundred dollars on a tiny tasting menu."

Maya smiled, shutting her laptop. "Agreed. Plus, we’re still saving for the kitchen remodel. What if we do a weekend trip? We could rent a cabin out by the Cascades."

"I'd love that, but I have to work next Saturday morning," Leo sighed, tossing the towel into the basket. He walked over and sat beside her, leaning his head against her shoulder. "I'm sorry. The clinic's scheduling is a total mess right now."

"It's okay. We share a house and a dog; I think our relationship is secure enough not to need a massive grand gesture," Maya reasoned, running a hand through his hair. "What if we just stay here? We can buy those ridiculously expensive steaks from the butcher down the street, open that bottle of wine your sister got us for Christmas, and completely disconnect. No phones, no emails."

Leo looked up, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Steak, good wine, and absolutely no screens? Honestly, that sounds better than a crowded restaurant anyway."

"It’s a date," Maya said, kissing his forehead. "I'll handle the butcher, you handle the wine. Now, are you going to help me fold the fitted sheets?"


Maya scraped the diced onions into the sizzling skillet, the sharp scent filling the kitchen of the Seattle townhouse she shared with Liam. He was leaning against the counter, casually uncorking a bottle of Tuesday-night Cabernet.

"So," Liam said, pouring two glasses. "Next Saturday. Five years."

Maya accepted her glass with a warm smile. "Five years. Half a decade since that terrible blind date at the bowling alley."

"I thought my gutter balls were endearing," Liam laughed, taking a sip. "Have you thought about what you want to do? We could drive down to Portland for the weekend. Or finally try that ten-course tasting menu at The Corson."

Maya stirred the onions, considering. The tasting menu sounded amazing, but their shared savings account was currently earmarked for replacing their temperamental HVAC system before winter.

"I love the Portland idea," Maya said gently, "but honestly? Between work and the furnace fund, a big trip feels stressful right now. And spending three hundred dollars on dinner makes me flinch."

Liam nodded, leaning in to bump his shoulder against hers. "Fair point. A working furnace takes priority over fancy scallops. What if we do a high-low night?"

Maya looked at him, intrigued. "Explain."

"We go to the wine shop and get a really fantastic bottle—like, actually good, not grocery-store good." He gestured to the cheap wine on the counter. "Then we order takeout from that ridiculous taco truck downtown, come back here, and watch the movie we saw on our third date."

Maya felt a quiet settling in her chest. Five years wasn't just a milestone; it was this—knowing exactly how to balance romance with the reality of their shared life.

"Tacos, expensive wine, and our own couch," Maya said. "It’s a perfect plan."


The morning sun filtered through the blinds of their rented Austin bungalow, catching the steam rising from Maya’s mug. She tucked her feet under her on the worn sectional and looked across the coffee table at Julian, who was casually scrolling through a hardware store app.

"Hey," Maya said, tapping her phone screen. "Next Saturday is the twelfth. Five years."

Julian looked up, immediately setting his phone face-down. "Wow. Half a decade. We should do something big to celebrate. Fancy dinner downtown? Maybe that sushi tasting menu we’ve been talking about since we moved in?"

Maya smiled, though she hesitated. "I’d love to dress up, but a three-hundred-dollar dinner feels a little heavy right now, especially with the unexpected vet bill from last week." She gestured toward their aging golden retriever, sleeping heavily by the front door.

Julian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Fair point. So, what’s the alternative? Sweatpants and takeout? It’s our five-year, May. I feel like it deserves a little better than our usual Pad Thai on the couch."

"What if we did a day trip?" Maya suggested, her eyes brightening. "Drive out to the Hill Country. We could hike Enchanted Rock in the morning, grab some brisket at that spot in Llano, and then find a winery with a nice patio. It’s an experience, it gets us out of the house, but we aren’t dropping a car payment on it."

Julian tilted his head, considering it. "A hike, ribs, and wine," he mused. "You know, that actually sounds a lot more like us than a stiff fine-dining room, anyway."

"Exactly," Maya said.

"Alright, it's a date," Julian said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "But I'm paying for the wine. And we're buying a ridiculously expensive bottle to bring back home."

Maya laughed. "Deal."


Rain lashed against the living room window of their Chicago apartment, but inside, the smell of roasting garlic made the small space feel warm. Maya leaned against the kitchen island, watching Leo stir the risotto.

"So, next Friday," she said, taking a sip of her red wine. "Five years. Half a decade of you stealing the good pillows."

Leo chuckled, tapping the wooden spoon against the edge of the pot. "You officially surrendered those pillows when we signed this lease. But seriously, what are we doing for it? Five years is a big deal."

"It is," Maya agreed, setting her glass down. "My mom keeps asking if we're doing a fancy trip. I looked at cabins in Wisconsin, but the weekend prices are ridiculous right now."

"We could do that new French place downtown," Leo suggested, though the slight grimace on his face gave him away. "Dress up, spend a week’s grocery budget on one meal?"

Maya laughed. "You hate wearing a tie, and I’d just be stressing about spilling sauce on a nice dress. Plus, we're trying to save up for the backyard patio furniture."

Leo turned down the stove's heat. "Okay, so no overpriced steaks and no pricey cabins. What if we just recreate our first date? But upgraded."

Maya smiled, the memory surfacing instantly. "Thai takeout and a terrible horror movie?"

"Exactly," Leo said, turning to face her. "But this time, we get the massive seafood Pad Thai, splurge on that expensive bottle of Pinot we’ve been eyeing at the corner shop, and rent a movie that's actually good. We can even build a blanket fort in the living room."

"A blanket fort?" Maya raised an eyebrow. "Using the good pillows?"

"For our fifth anniversary?" Leo grinned. "I'll allow it."

"It's a date," she said, feeling a surge of quiet contentment. It was perfectly them.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Perfect


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Perfect," she murmured.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal," Maya laughed. "It’s a date."

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The very same."

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The very same," Maya laughed.

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

"Deal," Maya smiled, feeling perfectly content.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Exactly."

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maya’s eyes brightened. "Staycation?"

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Exactly. Just us and the dog."

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like a staycation?" Liam asked.

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

Liam plated


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Exactly."

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The exact one."

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"With the expensive wine," Liam reminded her.

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal," Maya said.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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