Sofía and Ellie had been friends since they were eleven. They had shared everything — school, heartbreaks, the terrible flat they rented at twenty-three. Then Sofía moved to Lisbon for work and Ellie started a family, and the calls got shorter and the gaps between them longer. Neither of them made a decision. There was no argument, no difficult conversation. Just a slow loosening — a message left a little too long before answering, a birthday remembered a day late. One December, Sofía realised she had no idea what Ellie's daily life looked like anymore. They had not had a fight. They had simply, quietly, drifted apart.

Sofía called on a Tuesday evening with no particular reason. Ellie answered, surprised. They talked for two hours — about nothing important at first, then about everything. They started calling every other week. Then every week. They visited each other. The friendship didn't return to what it had been — they were different people now — but it became something better: two adults who had chosen each other deliberately, not out of habit. Ellie said once that she felt they had grown closer in the years apart than they ever had when they lived in the same city. Sofía thought about that for a long time. She decided Ellie was right.