Friends drop out of the group chat the moment I ask them to chip in for a NewYear dinner.
Maybe you should give them a ring? Simon says, watching his wife, Poppy, rearrange the festive baubles for the third time. Weve been mates for ages.
Whats the point? Poppy snaps, slamming the lid of the ornaments box. So I have to sit through another lecture about how selfish I am? Honestly, Im glad its come to this. Its about time we set the record straight.
She shoves the box into the corner of the lounge and moves to the floortoceiling window. Outside, snow swirls, blanketing their little garden in a fluffy white coat. The view usually soothes her, but tonight her heart feels heavy.
Remember how Megan and Paul were the first to leave last year? Poppy wraps her arms around herself. Sorry, weve got to be up early tomorrow! And we stayed up cleaning until three in the morning.
Simon steps close, slipping his arms around her shoulders.
And their kids went and doodled the nursery walls with permanent markers.
What about Sophie? Poppy turns to him. Ill bring the salads! She hauled a couple of tins of salad from the shop, but she also walked off with half of my homemade spreads. Can I have a taste?
Poppys eyes sting. She fights back tears, pulls out her phone and opens the nowsilent chat titled New Year 2025.
You know whats the worst part? she says. They never even asked why. They just vanished, as if Im not worth a single conversation.
Simon snatches the phone, places it on the windowsill.
At least now we know whos a true friend and who was just there for the hospitality.
Poppy nods, remembering every past holiday. She always strives for perfectiondays of cooking, decorating, planning games. All she ever got back were comments like, Your house looks lovely, and Lets do the next celebration at yours again.
Do you recall when Paul complained last year that we didnt heat the sauna? Simon chuckles. Whats a party without a proper steam?
Yes, and he never brought any wood, Poppy smiles despite herself. Then he spent a week texting us about catching a cold at our place, as if we were at fault.
Night falls, the snowstorm thickens, turning their garden into a genuine winter wonderland. Poppy flicks on the fairy lights draped around the lounge, bathing the room in a soft, cosy glow.
You know, she says, turning to Simon, this is the first time in five years well ring in the New Year just the two of us.
Simon pulls her close.
And thatll be the best New Year everno one to prove anything to, just you and me.
No kids with markers, Poppy laughs.
No lets have another round when everyones already exhausted.
She steps away from his embrace and heads to the kitchen.
Speaking of food, what should we make? Just for the two of us?
How about we order sushi? Simon suggests. Ive always wanted to spend New Years with California rolls instead of the usual mince pies.
Sushi for New Years? Thats actually a great ideano marathon cooking.
She pulls out her phone, opens the delivery app.
Look, they even have festive platters. And we can order a bottle of champagne.
Perfect, Simon peers over her shoulder. Shall we dress the tree?
Absolutely, Poppy grins. This time well hang the ornaments however we like, not according to some proper tradition.
The evening passes with them stringing tinsel and humming along to their favourite carols. No one mentions, My mum always did it this way, or That light is too bright. They simply do what feels right.
In the week leading up to New Year, Poppys phone buzzes a few times. Sophie texts, Maybe well still pop over? Megan asks, Did you get mad? and Paul, via his wife, writes, We could chip in if you need us.
Poppy doesnt reply. Shes busy compiling a list of films for their midnight marathon, picking board games, and planning how theyll spend the holidays together.
On 31December, as the clock strikes eleven, they sit on the sofa, arms wrapped around each other. Sushi sits on the coffee table, champagne bubbles in crystal flutes, and the classic film Home Alone plays on the telly.
Honestly, Poppy rests her head on Simons shoulder, Ive never felt this calm on New Years Eve.
And I feel the same, Simon kisses the top of her head. No hustle, no obligations. Just us.
When the chimes hit midnight, they dont make grand speeches. They simply look at each other, smile, and clink glasses. In that instant Poppy realises that losing old friends isnt a loss at allits a gain of freedom to be herself.
The phone, switched off earlier in the day, lies forgotten on the hall table. They step into the new year unburdened, free of anyone elses expectations.
Morning on 1January is surprisingly bright. Sunlight filters through slightly drawn curtains, and for the first time in years Poppy wakes up feeling truly restedno one scrambling for a second breakfast, no children wailing for more treats.
Morning, love, Simon appears in the bedroom doorway with a tray. Thought Id treat you to breakfast in bed.
Youre my hero, Poppy laughs, taking the steaming mug of coffee. Its oddly quiet, isnt it?
No mess, no empty crisps packets, no piledup dishes, Simon winks.
She sips, reaches for the phone, and checks the missed notifications: six from Megan, four from Sophie, even a private message from Paul.
Ol Paul, whats up? Weve been mates forever! Is it really about money?
Maybe well still come? Weve all pooled together.
Paul, answer! Were waiting!
Simon snatches the phone again. Remember what we agreed yesterday? No toxic chats at the start of the year.
Poppy nods, though a knot remains in her stomach. Years of friendshipcould she really just sweep it all away?
Simon leans in, You know how Paul spent the whole summer talking about renovating his house?
Of course, he never stopped.
And we offered to help. I spent three weekends wiring his place because friends ought to pitch in.
Poppy raises an eyebrow.
Whats that got to do with anything?
Its that when we needed a fence put up last month, Paul was suddenly busy. Same with Megan and her husband, and Sophie with her family. Yet when we finished the fence ourselves, they were the first to show up at the housewarming, just to admire it.
Exactly, Poppy says, setting her cup down. They always appear when its convenient for them, never when we actually need a hand.
Simon sits beside her, arms around her.
This isnt friendship; its a onesided favour economy. The fact they got offended when we asked them to chip in for the party proves it.
A car rumbles up the drive. Poppy looks out and sees Megans sleek sedan parked at the gate.
No way theyre serious? Simon scoffs. Think theyll expect us to let them in just because they show up?
The doorbell rings, then rings again.
Poppy, Simon! We know youre home! Lets talk! Megans voice is urgent. Come on, lets have a word!
Poppy exchanges a glance with Simon.
Maybe we should at least hear them out?
Its your call, Simon shrugs. But remember, we promised each other this year would be different.
Poppy takes a deep breath, opens the door, and finds Megan with her husband, plus Sophie carrying a few shopping bags.
Happy New Year! they say, trying to sound cheerful.
Happy New Year, Poppy replies, staying rooted. What brings you here?
What else? Its tradition for us to meet on the first of January.
Tradition? Poppys irritation rises. Did you ever think a tradition could change? Especially one built on one person doing all the work while everyone else just takes?
Poppy, stop, Megans husband interjects. We brought food, even champagne, just like you asked.
No, Poppy shakes her head. Thats not what I wanted. I wanted you to understand that friendship isnt about taking, its about giving. Its not acceptable to treat my hospitality as a given.
What are you talking about? Megans husband snaps. Were friends!
Friends? Poppy says dryly. Where were you when we needed help with the fence? When I was ill last winter and asked for medicine? When Simons car broke down and we needed a hand?
A heavy silence settles. The visitors look at each other, caught off guard.
You know what, Poppy stands straight. Go home. I dont want to start the New Year with old grudges and pretence. If you ever learn that friendship means both giving and taking, give me a call. Until then lets not speak.
Poppy Sophie begins.
Goodbye, Poppy says firmly, shutting the door.
She stands in the hallway, hearing the car start, doors slam, tires crunch over snow. Tears flicker, but a strange lightness fills her.
Simon climbs down, wraps his arms around her. Im proud of you. I know it wasnt easy.
You know whats odd? Poppy turns to him. Im not sad at all. It feels like Ive finally dropped a heavy backpack Ive been lugging for years.
Because it was never real friendship, just a strange dependency, Simon replies. You were scared to lose them and let them use you.
Poppy nods. Things will be different now.
Exactly, Simon smiles. Now, breakfast?
After the holidays, life settles into a comfortable rhythm. Poppy deletes the old group chats, archives the photos of past gettogethers, and throws herself into work. She feels she can breathe more freely, no longer worrying about who will drop by, what to cook, or how to entertain.
Can you believe it? she tells Simon over a midJanuary dinner. We saved almost fifty pounds on the festive season. Thats just the cashthink of the time and energy we saved too.
And thats only the money, Simon adds. Remember how youd spend a week prepping, then a week recovering?
Poppy nods, chewing a piece of roast chicken. Ive now signed up for a photography course. Its something Ive wanted for ages but never had the time.
I finally finished the workshop in the garage, Simon says. In two weeks I built the shelf Ive been planning all year.
A knock at the door interrupts them. Their neighbour, Mrs. Whitaker, stands there with a warm apple crumble.
Good evening, neighbours! Thought Id bring over a slice, she says brightly.
Thanks a lot! Poppy beams. Come in, have a cup of tea.
Over tea they chat and discover Mrs. Whitaker also dabbles in photography and sometimes shoots childrens parties.
Shall we go on a photo walk together sometime? she suggests. There are some lovely spots around the village, especially now with the snow.
Would love to! Poppy replies, genuinely excited.
Simon, thoughtful, adds, Weve lived next to each other for five years and never really talked. Always too busy with guests and preparations.
Exactly, Poppy agrees. Shes brilliant, and the crumble is amazing!
A week later the three of them set off on a winter photo walk. Mrs. Whitaker shows them hidden lanes in the woods, teaches a few professional tricks. They return chilled but happy, arms full of beautiful shots and a pact to meet again next weekend.
In early February, Megan calls. Poppy stares at the incoming number before answering.
Hey, Megans voice sounds tentative. How are you?
Fine, Poppy replies calmly. Whats up?
Nothing, just Ive been thinking about what you said on New Years Eve. You were right. We treated your hospitality as a right.
Im listening, Poppy says.
I want to apologise. Maybe we can start over?
Honestly, Ive thought a lot too, Poppy says slowly. And I realize I dont want to start over. Starting over would mean falling back into the same expectations. Ive changed, and I like my new life.
But we were friends for years
We were. Im grateful for the good times, but sometimes relationships run their course. Thats okay.
After the call Poppy feels a final sense of release, as if the last thread tying her to the past has snapped.
MidFebruary Mrs. Whitaker invites them to her birthday. A small, cosy gathering with her husband, teenage daughter, soninlaw, and a few neighbours.
Can I bring my signature crumble? Poppy asks.
Please do! Mrs. Whitaker replies. Ill show you my apple version.
The party is warm, children playing board games, adults swapping recipes and garden tips. Mrs. Whitaker boasts about a thriving vegetable patch and offers to share her tomatogrowing secrets.
Simon whispers to Poppy as they head home, No one got drunk, no one stayed up till dawn on the sofa.
No mountain of dishes, Poppy smiles. Thats what healthy relationships look likecomfort, no debts, no expectations, just being ourselves.
Back home Poppy pulls up the old photo album, flicks through pictures of former friends, and decisively hits delete.
Are you sure? Simon asks, watching her.
Absolutely, she says. You cant build something new while clinging to the old.
Simon hugs her. I feel the same. Its like we finally started living our own lives, not the ones others expected.
Snow falls outside, covering everything in a soft white blanket. Poppy watches the flakes drift past the window, thinking how sometimes you have to lose the familiar to discover whats truly yours.
The year rolls on, and December again drapes their village in snow. Anticipation of the festive season fills the air. Poppy hangs fresh photographssunset over the lake, misty forest dawns, spring blossoms, autumn coloursin sleek frames around the living room.
Stunning! Mrs. Whitaker exclaims, admiring the shots. She and her husband have been helping Simon install a new chandeliersomething hes wanted for ages.
Its all thanks to you, Poppy says. If you hadnt invited me on that photo walk, I might never have pursued photography seriously.
And now you even have students, Mrs. Whitaker teases.
Indeed, three months ago Poppy launched a beginners photography class. Six eager locals attend every weekend, heading out for shoots, learning about light, composition, and editing.
Simon descends the stairs, wiping his hands on a towel. Chandeliers up. Fancy a cuppa?
Over tea they discuss plans for the upcoming festive celebrations.
Were thinking of organising a streetwide Christmas gathering, Mrs. Whitaker says. Well put a big tree in the square, serve mulled wine, everyone brings a dish. Kids can have snowball fights, adults can mingle. Will you join?
Wed love to! Poppy replies. I can set up a photo booth with fairy lights, make it look magical.
Ill help with the tree, Simon offers.
That evening, after the neighbours have left, Poppy tackles a preNewYear cleanout in the loft. She uncovers a dusty box labelled New Year 2024. Inside sit old tinsel, homemade decorations made with Megans kids and Sophies,She smiled, realizing that the old box now held only memories, while her present was bright with new possibilities.
