**Diary Entry – A Friendship That Grew Back Stronger**
It was meant to be just another birthday in Greenfield—but it wasn’t. It was Vera’s first celebration since recovering from a brutal illness, one that had nearly taken her from us. The table groaned under homemade salads, pies, roast beef, and a grand cake with the message, *“To Your Health and Happiness, Vera!”* Nearly everyone had turned up—family, colleagues, childhood friends—but one chair remained empty.
*“Darling, where’s Emily?”* Vera asked her husband, Andrew, her voice laced with worry as she glanced at the empty seat beside her.
*“No idea,”* he shrugged. *“She’s not picking up. Traffic, maybe?”*
Another half-hour passed before Emily finally walked in. Silence fell over the room like a heavy curtain. Vera looked up—and gasped.
*“Oh, Emily… Why did you do it?”*
They’d been inseparable since they were girls. Their houses stood side by side, their mothers both teachers at the same school. Emily—loud, fearless, always stirring up mischief. Vera—quiet, gentle, the kind of soul who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Opposites in every way, yet bound by something unbreakable.
*“Vera, you’ve got to learn to say no,”* Emily would scold. *“I won’t always be there to stick up for you.”*
*“Why not?”* Vera would laugh. *“We’ll always be together.”*
Vera had the most stunning hair—thick, dark, hanging in a plait as wide as a wrist. Other girls envied her, but Emily only ever admired it. Hers was ordinary, ash-blonde, always tied back in a messy ponytail.
After school, they went their separate ways—Vera to teacher training, Emily to study engineering. One dreamed of classrooms like her mum, the other of blueprints like her dad. Their paths diverged, but never their hearts.
Vera married young—Andrew, a boy who’d followed her since year nine. Tall, sporty, he’d joined the army and proposed the day he returned. She’d waited for him as surely as you wait for spring.
*“Wait for me, Vera. I’ll come back, and then it’s forever. You’re mine.”*
He came back. They married. A year later, their son was born, filling their home with warmth, like the scent of fresh bread.
Emily married Tom, a fellow student who’d come from another town but stayed for her. They lived with her parents at first, slowly building their own house, brick by brick. Then came their daughter.
Through weddings, babies, and everything in between, their friendship endured. They pushed prams together, shared Christmases, laughed over secrets.
Then Vera fell ill. Really ill. The kind where doctors don’t make promises. A silent, creeping thing, stealing her strength day by day.
Andrew never left her side. He held her when she couldn’t cry anymore, smoothed her brow when the medicine burned through her. He pretended to believe—even as his own hope flickered.
Emily did everything—took Vera’s son to the park, stocked the fridge, scrubbed the floors. She never let the fear show in her eyes.
And Vera fought her way back. Through chemo, through weakness, through terror. She survived. But that beautiful plait? Gone. Now, just a silk scarf, neatly tied at the nape of her neck.
Three months later, her birthday arrived. Flowers, laughter, music. Everyone marvelled at her strength. But Emily still wasn’t there.
Then the door opened—and there she stood.
Emily. Bright, bold Emily.
Only now… her hair was gone. Shorn nearly to the scalp.
The room froze.
Vera stood, tears welling. *“Why…?”*
Emily crossed the room, wrapped her in a hug, and whispered, *“Thought it’d be nice if our hair grew back together. Fresh start. Like our friendship did.”*
*“Em… you’ve already done so much. You saved me. You were there…”*
*“Vera, for a real friend, there’s no ‘too much.’ Either you are or you aren’t. I am. And I will be, till the end.”*
Andrew wiped his eyes. He’d never expected this. He took both their hands. *“You two… people like you are rare. Thank you. Emily—for standing by us. You’re our guardian angel.”*
The guests cried. Clapped. Laughed through tears. That night wasn’t just a birthday—it was a rebirth.
Years passed. Vera had another son. Emily had a boy too. Now they gather in Emily’s kitchen, the air sweet with apple pie and cinnamon. Their children are as close as they once were.
And their hair? Long again.
Because friendship’s like hair. If the roots are strong, it always grows back.
