Friends left the group chat the moment I asked them to chip in for the NewYears dinner.
Maybe you should give them a ring? Stephen watched as his wife, Eleanor, shuffled the Christmas baubles from the box for the third time. Weve been friends for decades
Whats the point? Eleanor slammed the lid shut. So I can hear them call me mercenary again? Honestly, Im glad it turned out like this. It was high time we put a stop to the pretense.
She set the box in the corner of the sittingroom and walked to the bay window. Outside, snow swirled, laying a soft white blanket over their garden in Yorkshire. The view normally soothed her, but tonight her heart felt heavy.
Remember how Margaret and Peter were the first to leave last year? Eleanor wrapped her arms around herself. Sorry, we have to get up early tomorrow! And we stayed up cleaning till three in the morning.
Stephen slipped his arms around her shoulders.
And their children smeared the nursery walls with permanent markers.
What about Sarah? Eleanor turned to him. Ill bring the salads! She hauled a couple of tins of coronet potatoes from the shop, but took half of my homemade pickles with her. Can I have a taste?
Eleanors eyes welled. She blinked, trying not to cry, and opened the nowempty chat titled NewYear2025.
You know what hurts most? she said. They didnt even ask why. They just vanished, as if I werent worth a single word.
Stephen took the phone from her and placed it on the windowsill.
At least now we know who our true friends are and who only used our hospitality.
She nodded, recalling every past holiday. Each time she strived for perfection: days of cooking, decorating the house, planning games. All she ever got back were polite compliments and promises to host the next celebration.
Do you recall when Peter protested last year that we hadnt heated the sauna? Stephen chuckled. Whats a party without a bathhouse?
Yes, and he didnt even bring any wood, Eleanor laughed despite herself. Then he spent a week complaining that hed caught a cold at our place, as if we were to blame.
Night fell, the snowfall thickened, turning their garden into a winter fairytale. Eleanor flicked on the fairy lights that rimmed the sittingroom, bathing the space in a soft glow.
You know, she said, turning to Stephen, this is the first time in five years well ring in the NewYear just the two of us.
Stephen pulled her close.
And itll be the best one, because we wont have to prove anything to anyone. Just you and me.
Eleanor laughed. No kids with markers, then.
No endless rounds of one more drink when everyones exhausted.
She slipped from his embrace and headed to the kitchen.
Speaking of food, what shall we cook? Only for the two of us?
How about ordering sushi? Stephen suggested. Ive always wanted to welcome the NewYear with a bit of salmon nigiri instead of coronet potatoes.
Sushi for NewYears? Thats an idea! No marathon cooking.
She opened the delivery app. Look, they even have festive platters. And we can order a bottle of champagne.
Perfect, Stephen peered over her shoulder. Shall we put up the tree?
Absolutely, Eleanor smiled. This time well hang the ornaments however we like, not by some oldfashioned rule.
They spent the evening stringing the tree to the tune of their favourite records. No one muttered, My mother always did it this way, or That tinsel is too bright. They simply did what made them happy.
In the week before NewYears, Eleanors phone buzzed repeatedly. Sarah sent, Maybe well still pop over? Margaret asked, Did you get upset? and Peter, through his wife, wrote, Could we chip in a little?
Eleanor ignored them. She and Stephen were busy compiling a list of films for a marathon, picking board games, and planning a quiet holiday for just the two of them.
On the thirtyfirst of December, as the clock struck eleven, they curled up on the sofa together. Sushi rested on the coffee table, flutes of champagne sparkled, and the telly played the classic Home Alone.
Honestly, Eleanor rested her head on Stephens shoulder, I havent felt this calm on NewYears night in ages.
So havent I, Stephen kissed the top of her head. No hustle, no obligations. Just us.
When the bells began to toll midnight, they said no toast. They simply looked at each other, smiled, and clinked glasses. In that instant Eleanor realised that losing old friends was not a loss at all, but a gaining a gain of freedom to be herself.
The phone, switched off since the day before, lay untouched in the hallway. They entered the NewYear unburdened, without the weight of other peoples expectations. It was a perfect start.
The first morning of January was unusually bright. Sunlight slipped through the loosely drawn curtains, waking Eleanor with a feeling of true rest. No one knocked at dawn, no one demanded another banquet, no infants wailing in the distance.
Good morning, Stephen appeared in the bedroom doorway with a tray. I thought Id treat you to breakfast in bed.
Youre my hero, Eleanor grinned, taking the steaming mug of tea. Unusually quiet, isnt it?
Exactly, Stephen winked. No scattered wrappers, no empty bottles, no piles of dirty dishes.
She sipped the tea and glanced at the phone, halfexpecting messages. Six missed calls from Margaret, four from Sarah, and a personal text from Peter.
Come on, we decided yesterday no toxic chat in the NewYear, Stephen said, snatching the phone away.
Eleanor nodded, yet a restless feeling lingered. Decades of friendship could she really discard it all?
Stephen, sensing her thoughts, said, Remember when Peter started renovating his house last summer? He talked about it all season. We offered to help I spent three weekends wiring his loft because friends help friends.
Eleanor frowned. What are you getting at?
That when we needed a fence installed a month later, he was suddenly very busy. Margaret and her husband too, and Sarah with her family. Yet when we finished the fence ourselves, they were the first to show up at the housewarming, just to admire it.
Yes, I recall, Eleanor set her cup down. They always appear when its convenient for them, never when we truly need them.
Stephen sat beside her, arms around her. Thats not friendship, its a consumer relationship. Their irritation at a modest request to chip in for a meal proves it.
A car engine roared outside. Eleanor peeked out the window and saw Margarets sedan pulling up.
No, theyre serious? Stephen muttered. Think theyll expect us to let them in?
The doorbell rang, then rang again.
Eleanor, Stephen! We know youre home! Margarets voice sounded urgent. Lets talk!
Eleanor exchanged a glance with Stephen.
Should we let them in? At least hear them out?
Its your call, Stephen shrugged. Remember our promise to make this year different.
Eleanor took a deep breath, opened the door, and found Margaret, her husband, and Sarah, each bearing bags of food and presents.
Happy NewYear! they chorused, trying hard to sound cheerful.
Happy NewYear, Eleanor replied, standing firm. Why are you here?
As usual, we gather on the first of January. Tradition! Sarah protested.
Tradition? Eleanor felt a surge of anger. Did you ever think a tradition could change? Especially one that lets one person do all the work while the rest just take?
Come on, Eleanor, Margaret pleaded. Weve brought food, even champagne, just as you wanted!
No, Eleanor shaken her head. I wanted something else. I wanted you to realise that friendship isnt just taking, its also giving. It isnt a right to my hospitality.
Youre overreacting, Margarets husband snapped. Were friends!
Friends? Eleanor laughed bitterly. Where were you when we needed help with the fence? When I was ill last winter and needed medicine? When Stephens car broke down and we needed a hand?
A heavy silence fell. The guests exchanged uneasy looks.
You know what? Eleanor straightened. Go home. I dont want to start the NewYear with old grudges and pretence. If you ever understand that friendship involves give and take, call me. Until then, lets keep our distance.
Sarah began, Eleanor
Goodbye, Eleanor said firmly, closing the door.
She stood in the hallway, listening to the car start, the doors slam, the snow crunch under tires. Tears pricked her eyes, yet an unexpected lightness settled over her.
Im proud of you, Stephen came up behind, hugging her tightly. I know it was hard.
You know whats odd? Eleanor turned to him. Im not sad at all. It feels like Ive finally dropped a heavy pack Ive carried for years.
Because all those years werent true friendship, just a strange dependence. You feared losing them, so you let them use you.
Yes, she agreed. Things will be different now.
Exactly, Stephen smiled. Now lets have breakfast. We have a mountain of plans for the holidays, remember?
After the festive season, life settled into a steady rhythm. Eleanor deleted the old group chats, archived photos of past gatherings, and threw herself into work. She felt she could breathe freely, no longer worrying about who would drop by, what to cook, or how to entertain.
Imagine, she told Stephen over a midJanuary dinner, we saved nearly fifty pounds on the holidays.
And thats just the money, Stephen replied. Think of the time and energy we wasted.
Eleanor nodded, chewing a piece of roast chicken. Ive even signed up for a photography course. Its something Ive wanted for ages but never had the chance.
I finally finished the workshop in the garage, Stephen beamed. In two weeks I built the shelf Id been planning all year.
A knock at the door announced their neighbour, MrsCatherine Hughes, holding a warm apple pie.
Good evening, neighbours! I thought Id drop by with a slice.
Thank you so much! Eleanor exclaimed, inviting her in for tea.
Over tea they discovered Catherine also loved photography and sometimes did freelance shoots at childrens parties.
Shall we go on a photo walk together sometime? she suggested. The countryside looks spectacular in winter.
Delighted! Eleanor replied.
Later, Stephen mused, Weve lived next to each other for five years and never really talked. All that time we were busy with guests and preparations.
Yes, Eleanor agreed. Shes actually fascinating, and the pie is divine!
A week later the three of them set off on a winter photo walk, capturing frosted trees and subtle light. They returned chilled but thrilled, with a stack of beautiful pictures and a promise to repeat the outing.
In early February Margaret called. Eleanor stared at the incoming number before answering.
Hello, Margarets voice wavered. How are you?
Im fine, Eleanor replied calmly. Whats up?
Ive been thinking about what you said on NewYears Eve. You were right. We took your hospitality for granted.
Ive thought a lot too, Eleanor said slowly. But I dont want to start over. Starting over would just mean repeating the same old patterns. Im happy with the way my life is now.
But we were friends for so long
We were, and Im grateful for the good moments, Eleanor said. Sometimes relationships run their course, and thats natural.
After the call Eleanor felt a final sense of release, as if the last thread tying her to the past had snapped.
Later that month Catherine invited them to her birthday. It was a small, intimate gathering with her husband, daughter, soninlaw, grandchildren, and a few neighbours.
Can I bring my special cake? Eleanor offered.
Please do! Catherine replied, delighted. Ill teach you my apple version.
The party was warm and cosy. Children played board games, adults swapped recipes and talked about the upcoming spring planting Catherine even promised to share her tomatogrowing tips.
You know, Stephen whispered as they walked home, no one got drunk, no one caused a scene, no one had to spend the night on the couch.
And no mountain of dirty dishes, Eleanor added with a grin. Thats what healthy relationships look like everyone comfortable, no debtors, just being ourselves.
Back home Eleanor opened the photo folder on her phone, scrolling through old pictures of former friends before decisively pressing delete.
Are you sure? Stephen asked.
Absolutely, she replied. You cant build something new while clinging to the old.
She felt genuinely happy for the first time in years.
Stephen hugged her. Me too. It feels like we finally live our own lives, not the ones others expected of us.
Outside, snow fell in thick, soft flakes, blanketing the world in white. Eleanor watched the flakes drift past the streetlamps, thinking how sometimes you must lose something familiar to gain something authentic.
The year turned, and December once again cloaked their village in snow, the air humming with anticipation. Eleanor arranged new framed photographs on the mantel images from her photography course: sunsets over the lake, misty forest dawns, early spring blossoms, autumn hues.
Stunning! Catherine exclaimed, admiring the pictures as they helped install a new chandelier in Eleanors dining room.
Its all thanks to you, Eleanor said. If you hadnt invited me on that photo walk, I might never have pursued it seriously.
You even have your own students now, Catherine winked.
Three months earlier Eleanor had started a small beginners photography class. Six people signed up, and each weekend they ventured out, learning about light, composition, and editing.
Stephen appeared, wiping his hands on a cloth.
The chandeliers up. Shall we have tea?
Over tea they discussed plans for the upcoming NewYears celebration.
Were thinking of a streetwide fête, Catherine said. A tree in the village green, mulled wine, everyone brings a dish. Kids can have snowball fights, adults can chat. Will you come?
Wed love to, Eleanor replied. I can set up a photo backdrop with fairy lights itll look lovely.
Ill help with the tree, Stephen offered.
Later, after the neighbours had left, Eleanor turned to the attic for a preNewYear tidyup. In a dusty corner she found a box labelled NewYear2024. Inside lay old tinsel, handmade decorations from years ago, and a photo album of gatherings with Margaret, Sarah, and Peters children.
She opened the album, smiling at how much had changed. She no longer kept in touch with that old crowd; Margaret had welcomed a third child, Sarah had moved to Manchester, and Peter and his wife had bought a new car.
What did you find? Stephen asked, settling beside her.
Its a reminder, Eleanor said, closing the album. We made the right choice to change. Look at all the good thats entered our lives this year.
Stephen wrapped an arm around her. Exactly. Youre a photographer now, my workshop finally runs, weve got real friends
Yes, Eleanor added. Remember the lake outing with you, Catherine, and her family? Just because?
And how her grandchildren begged you to teach them photography.
And how you built the new shed for her.
They fell quiet, recalling the past years events.
What matters most? Eleanor asked suddenly. Weve learned to value our time and space, to say no when we dont feel like doing something, to choose who we truly want around.
And to be happy together, Stephen said. Remember how we feared being alone at holidays? We thought we needed a big noisy crowd
Now we know happiness lives in the small things: shared breakfasts, evening walks, comfortable silences.
Eleanor moved to the window. Snowflakes swirled under the streetlamps, falling in large, lazy curls.
Sometimes you just have to trust life, she said. A year ago we were terrified of change, of losing friends, of ending up alone. In the end we gained far more than we lost.
Stephen embraced her, his shoulders warm against her back.
And now we have genuine friends people who dont expect a favour, who dont count how much we spent, who arent offended when we need a night to ourselves.
Yes, Eleanor smiled. I cant wait for this NewYear. Itll be wonderful to gather the whole street, without obligations, just to enjoy the holiday together.
At that moment her phone buzzed. A message from Catherine appeared in the village chat: Friends! Tomorrow at noon were putting up the community tree. Bring ornaments, lights, good cheer. After work well have hot tea and pies in the green!
Eleanor showed Stephen the message.
Thats real neighbourly talk, she said. No strings, no grudges, just goodwill.
And all by choice, not by dutyAs the first snowflake landed on the windowpane, Eleanor whispered that the true gift of the year was learning to cherish the quiet moments together, and with that, she felt the future stretching warmly ahead.
