Interlinked | Leah Williamson

Leah's birthday had arrived far too quickly for Maddie's liking - like, genuinely out of nowhere. One day they were on their little post-dinner walk in the park after the date at Fallow, and the next, Maddie was standing in front of her bathroom mirror, toothbrush hanging from her mouth, phone in hand, staring in horror at the date on the screen.

March 29th

Leah's birthday.

"Shit." The word came out around a mouthful of toothpaste foam.

Because somehow, in between casting jobs, fittings, shoots, sneaky midweek meetups with Leah, and pretending to not be falling in love with her best friend, Maddie had completely forgotten to get her a birthday present.

She spat into the sink, wiped her mouth, and shuffled back to her bedroom, heart already pounding. Her brain was racing. She hadn't even started. Not even an idea. Not even a card.

And of course - of course - Leah had said that thing she always said a couple of weeks ago, in that half-smirking, eye-roll-inducing way of hers: "I don't need anything, Mads. Your company is enough."

Which made Maddie gag dramatically every time and respond with some snarky, dry comment like:
"Jesus Christ. You sound like a greeting card in a petrol station."

But if she was being honest... it got her. Every year. Because even though it was obnoxiously sappy, it was also just so painfully Leah. She didn't want the big things. She wanted Maddie. Time. Memories. Jokes that made them cry laughing. Stupid private references no one else understood.

And still Maddie had forgotten.

She sat down on the edge of her bed in an oversized hoodie, staring blankly at the wall.

Panic buzzed beneath her skin. Because this year wasn't like the others. They weren't just "best friends" anymore. Well... they were. But they were also more. That blurry, unspoken space between the label and the leap. And Maddie wanted to get it right. More than anything, she wanted Leah to feel seen. Loved.

Because, in her own maddening, casual, softly-tethered-to-everything way - Leah had made Maddie feel exactly that, for years.

So she exhaled, ran her hands over her face, then stood up with sudden purpose.

Okay. No time to sulk.

There was still time to make something. To do something. Something personal. Something thoughtful. Something so perfectly them that Leah would probably roll her eyes, shake her head, and smile like Maddie had just handed her the world.

She didn't need fireworks. She didn't need diamonds.
She just needed Maddie.

And that - even after forgetting - Maddie could still give.

Maddie flopped back on her bed, one arm flung across her face, the other gripping her phone. She stared at the ceiling for half a second before swiping to Jacob's contact and pressing call, her leg bouncing with nerves like it might suddenly come up with a genius idea for her.

He picked up after two rings, his voice already sounding amused. "Happy Birthday to our Queen, huh?"

"Jacob. What the hell do I get her?" Maddie rushed out, sitting up straight again, full panic mode returning instantly.

There was a beat of silence before Jacob burst out laughing, properly, like belly-laughing, the kind that made Maddie groan before he even said anything.

"Mads," he wheezed, "it's her birthday today, mate. You're a bit late."

"I know that's why I'm ringing, you dick!" she complained, dramatically standing up and pacing her bedroom like it would help. "Help me!"