You’d read the letter five times.

And then two more after that.

It wasn’t bad, not really—just… vague. Handwritten on soft paper, Tish’s loopy script running into Kenyatta’s sharper, careful notes. A strange request to meet. At the furniture store of all places. Tish’s wonderful Furniture & Fabric, where the chairs never matched and the floor creaked like it held secrets.

You walked there fast, half your brain spiraling.

Was something wrong? Were they breaking up with you in front of an ottoman? Was this it? The kind of heartbreak that came with cheap ice cream?

“Hey you!”

Tish’s voice snapped the panic in half.

She popped up from one of the couches like a flower outta the dirt—bright and messy and so much joy packed into such a small person. Kenyatta stood beside her, more calm but there was warmth in her eyes that eased the knot in your chest.

They both moved toward you, twin smiles blooming. Kenyatta’s hand brushed Tish’s elbow, grounding her.

“I know this might seem forward,” Tish said, almost bouncing on her toes. Her fingers fidgeted with something behind her back, and her cheeks had that pink-flushed, nervous look she got before big reveals. “But I wanna give you something I made. Myself.”

She turned to Kenyatta, needing the approval.

And Kenyatta gave it instantly, threading her fingers through Tish’s and squeezing tight.

“Course they’ll love it, Tish,” she said, soft and sure. “You worked hard on it.”

Tish gave a tiny nod. Then stepped forward, cupping something in her hands like it was fragile.

A pin.

Small. Hand-carved. A little metal, a little wood. And somehow… you. The curves of your favorite cloak, Kenyatta’s unmistakable silhouette, Tish’s sunburst curls etched in the tiniest swirls.

A piece of all three of you.

“For you,” Tish murmured, pressing it into your palm like a prayer. “I want you to wear it when you think of us. And I’ll wear mine, too. That way… even when we’re apart, you’ll know. I’ll always be thinking of you.”

And then Kenyatta, who’d been quiet—too quiet—cleared her throat and said, quick and blunt: “It’d mean a lot to us. Since… well. We love you. A lot.”

A beat passed.

“…That sounded cheesy, didn’t it?” she groaned, half-laughing, dragging a hand down her face. “Ugh. Gods. I knew I’d say something dumb.”