Faith moved slowly down the long corridor of her flat, as if her pace mirrored the evening itselftranslucent and warm, the sun lingering above the rooftops. She set a cup of tea on the table and opened her laptop. Among the new emails, one stood out: “Class of 2004Reunion!” It struck her as strange that twenty years had already passed. She stared at the screen, remembering herself in school uniform, the silly ribbons her deskmate used to wear.
The evening stretched, soft light draping over white curtains. Faith wondered how few threads remained between the woman she was now and the girl who once ran down these same streets. She reread the emailtheir old form tutor reminding them of the reunion, urging everyone to gather. Faith smiled at the unseen presence; memories surfaced effortlessly. Most classmates had scatteredsome to other cities, others still here. She kept in touch with only two friends, and even those conversations had grown rare.
As her tea cooled, she debated whether to take charge of organising the reunion. Doubts swarmedwould she have time? Would others agree? But the thought wouldnt leave her. If not her, who else?
She glanced around the room. Violets bloomed lush on the windowsill. Outside, childrens voices rose as they played football in the courtyard. Faith walked to the shelf of albums and pulled out an old notebook tucked with photos. Faces she hadnt seen in decades stared backsome with cropped hair, others in braids. Suddenly, she remembered hiding in the staff room cupboard with Emilyhow certain theyd been they wouldnt be found.
Memories tangled like ivy. Faith caught herself smiling. Shed decided: the reunion would happen. A quiet unease stirredcould she really gather them all? Would she ever recapture the lightness of those school days?
She messaged her two friends at once: “Heard about the reunion? Lets get everyone together!” Replies came instantlyone eager, the other hesitant. Faith persuaded her, typing fast, not overthinking. The friend finally wrote, “If youre leading, Im in.”
And so it began. Faith opened her browser and logged into the alumni site automaticallyshe hadnt visited in years. The feed brimmed with strangers. Under “Class,” familiar surnames appeared. Some profiles had been dormant for ages. She sent quick notes: “Hi! Its Faith. Planning a reunion. Fancy joining?” Green dots blinkedsome were online.
Tracking people down proved trickier than expected. Phone numbers no longer worked. She scoured social mediasome had married and changed names, others replaced profile pictures with seascapes. Occasionally, she messaged strangers with similar names, just in case. Each time, her pulse quickened.
Searching sent her spiralling backliterature debates over Hardys novels, class trips to the lake, the first school camping trip. Most vivid was her first crush: Alex Thorne from the parallel class. Even now, remembering him tugged at her chest.
One evening, a message arrived from Oliverthe quiet boy from the back row whod barely spoken in school. He wrote simply:
“Hi. Good idea. Im in.”
After that, Faith felt a surge of confidence. Two more classmates joined the search, debating venues eagerly.
The flat grew warmerperhaps because Faith now kept the windows wide open. Warm air rushed in, carrying the scent of young leaves and distant city hum. Flowers unfurled on the sill; each time she passed, her fingers brushed their petals.
One night, Emily calledher partner in mischief.
“Remember our first assembly?” Emily asked.
“Of course! I was terrified Id forget my poem.”
“And I stepped on my brand-white pinafore right in front of the headmaster.”
They laughed.
“Well meet, wont we?” Emily said.
“Im organising it now!” Faith replied.
Evenings were spent listing whod been foundchecking off names, jotting numbers or social media links. Sometimes she stayed up late messagingdiscussing menus, whod bring old photos or souvenirs.
Alex Thorne unsettled her most. His profile had been inactive for years, their mutual friends gone. She hunted through the parallel class chat, but no one had his new number. Then she found an old lakeside photoAlex stood slightly apart, smiling faintly.
“Wonder if hell come” Faith murmured aloud.
Reunion day arrived. The school had agreed to let them use their old second-floor classroom, windows thrown open against summers heat. Faith came earlyshe wanted to wander the corridor, its walls still the same pale shade. Fresh wildflower bouquets sat on the sills, brought by someone beforehand.
Classmates trickled insome with children, others carrying photo boxes. One hugged Faith so tightly she nearly dropped her folder. Whispers rosetales of exam blunders, school trips. The room swelled with voices, laughter echoing off the ceiling.
Faith kept scanning for a familiar silhouette. Every time the door opened, her heart skipped. She chatted, asked about lives, listened to stories of families and careers, yet tension coiled tighter inside.
Then the door swung open again, and Faith froze mid-sentence. Alex Thorne walked inbarely changed: hair lightly silvered, the same straight posture, that quiet smile that once stole her breath. He glanced around, then looked straight at her; their eyes met across the room.
Alex approached, and the noise seemed to hushothers were deep in conversation or flipping through photos.
“Hi, Faith Good to see you after all this time,” he said softly.
“You too You havent changed,” she replied, just as quiet.
“Couldnt miss this,” Alex smiled wider. “Thanks for putting it together”
In that moment, everything else fadedthe long search, the worries, all necessary for this.
Conversations grew softer, deeper. Some shared not just school antics but career choices, where life had taken them. A long table held plates of cakes, a box of chocolates, childhood souvenirsa paper boat, a yellowed ruler. Faith sat by the open window, warm air brushing her skin as Emily recounted their first camping trip. Watching her classmates, she felt it clearly: theyd all changed, yet somehow stayed the same. Time had bent, letting past and present touch.
Alex sat opposite. He lingered, occasionally catching her eyenot intrusively, just kindly. No awkwardness hung between them; theyd shared the important things, content just being near. Faith noticed how attentively he listened, interjecting with quiet remarks. His voice was deeper, steadier than twenty years ago. She remembered her younger self, too nervous to stand too close.
Laughter dimmed. Someone toasted their form tutorglasses clinked. Faith realised she didnt want to leave. Her phone buzzeda new message: “Shall we make a group chat?” A classmate had sent it. Faith smiled, agreeing at once. Messages flooded inplans for summer meet-ups, photos from tonight, jokes about how everyone had aged.
The classroom quietened. Outside, dusk deepened; a streetlamp cast gold stripes on the blackboard. Windows stood open, letting in the scent of flowering shrubs and murmurs of passersby. Faith felt an odd calmas if these hours had rebuilt bridges between her and the past.
As goodbyes began, hugs came easily. Even those whod barely spoken in school now shared grown-up worries or summer plans. Oliverthe back-row boyspoke of his daughter; Emily showed prom photos.
Alex stayed till the end, helping clear the table, packing leftover trinkets into a box.
“Shame holidays dont last,” he murmured.
Faith nodded: “Weve got the group chat now”
He smiled: “Well message more.”
No promisesjust understanding that their connection had deepened.
Faith left the school among the last. On the steps, she paused, gazing up at the familiar buildinga blend of gratitude and faint melancholy in her chest. Behind her, voices lingered, reluctant to part.
Home was quietthe hush after noise felt gentler than usual. Faith plugged in her phone by her bag and sat by the window. A car passed; a motorbike growled somewhere distant.
Morning came softlylight through curtains, fresh air from the open window. Faith didnt rise at once. She reached for her phone: dozens of messages in the new class chat.
Photos from the reunion, ideas for summer outings, old stories shared in rapid bursts.
“Thanks, everyone! Felt so warm,” some wrote.
“Whens the next one?” asked others.
Faith scrolled slowly, savouring each word.
She typed:
“Thank you all! So happy to be part of our group again,”
and sent a heart emoji.
In that moment, she knew: the past wasnt a detached fragment anymore. It had woven itself back into her lifea circle of support and joy, revived by the chat and meetings yet to come.
Birds chirped outside. A breeze lifted the curtains, carrying the freshness of a new day. To Faith, it felt like everything was just beginning.
