I never expected to find my birthday on my best friend’s locker combination.
It was an ordinary Tuesday at the gym when I accidentally opened his locker instead of mine. My fingers had moved automatically—0412, my birthdate—and the lock clicked open. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. Maybe he’d seen me type it in before. But when I spotted the worn notebook tucked in his gym bag, curiosity got the best of me.
Inside were pages of workout logs, but deeper in, I found my name. Not just once—dozens of times. Dates, events, even notes about my breakup last year. My stomach twisted.
That night, I tested him. I lied about switching gyms, and within days, mutual friends were asking about my “new CrossFit membership.” When I finally confronted him, his explanation shattered everything I thought I knew about our friendship.
“It’s not stalking,” he said quietly. “You saved my life once. I just didn’t want to forget.”
Turns out, the notebook wasn’t creepy—it was gratitude. A lifeline for someone who’d been drowning.
A year later, when he checked into a mental health facility, I was the first person he called. Now, we keep a new notebook together—one filled with good memories instead of silent struggles.
Sometimes the people who care the most just don’t know how to say it.
