Jake hesitated before sharing the rest. He said Adrien had stopped attending every weekly hangout and wasn't responding to the group chat constantly anymore. Emma's work schedule had become busier, and the two of them wanted time to plan the wedding and visit her family. According to Jake, Marissa had taken the shift personally, especially when Adrien declined the annual beach-house weekend because he and Emma had already arranged a trip to see her parents.
"She told him he was becoming just like you," Jake said, watching me carefully.
I set down my fork. "She actually said that?"
"That's what he told me. I wasn't there."
I appreciated the distinction. It would have been easy to accept every story that made Marissa look foolish as unquestionable fact, but I knew what it felt like when people repeated only the version that supported their side. I asked whether Adrien was all right, and Jake said he seemed more tired of the arguments than angry. He'd apparently told Marissa that growing up with someone didn't mean never making room for anyone else.
I thought about the way she'd told me the group would always be there after me. The words had sounded like a statement about permanent loyalty, but life didn't freeze people at the moment they made a promise in college. Careers changed, relationships deepened, and sometimes a person wanted to spend a weekend with their future in-laws instead of re-creating the same beach photographs. None of that meant the earlier friendships had been fake.
More news arrived a week later. Khloe had received a promotion that required relocating to Portland, an opportunity she'd spent years trying to earn. I remembered how often she'd complained about being underused at work and how proud she'd been when a manager finally trusted her with a major account. I assumed the squad would celebrate her success, even if they were sad about the distance.
Instead, Jake heard that Marissa had said real friends didn't abandon one another for career opportunities. Khloe had been hurt and had tried to explain that a move didn't mean ending the friendship, only changing how often they could meet. She suggested virtual movie nights and planned visits, but those suggestions apparently sounded insufficient to Marissa. I wasn't present for the conversation, so I couldn't know what was said in exactly what tone, but the pattern was painfully familiar.
For years, the squad's closeness had looked strongest when everybody was available. Now availability was changing, and Marissa seemed to experience each change as a personal rejection. She had told me that love could wait while friendship couldn't, but she was discovering that friendship couldn't remain identical forever either. I wondered whether the thought frightened her as much as she'd frightened me on our anniversary night.
The updates about Tasha and Finn were harder to follow because their history had always been presented as a collection of jokes nobody explained. During my relationship with Marissa, I'd seen them flirt, argue, avoid each other for a week, and then sit close enough at the next gathering to make the rest of us pretend not to notice. Jake told me they had finally begun dating openly and were serious enough that they wanted time together without the group watching every move. Apparently, Marissa worried that if they broke up, the squad would be divided forever.