The Strain of Distance

The visit to see Emi had been exactly what Mike needed. For two days, it had felt like they were back to the way things used to be—laughing, talking, and spending time together without the looming pressure of distance or the demands of college. But as soon as he returned to State University, the reality of their situation hit him once again.

Their visits couldn't last forever.

In the weeks that followed, the rhythm of college life took over once more. Mike was busier than ever with soccer practice, midterms, and the endless stream of social events his dorm mates dragged him into. He tried to make time for Emi every evening, but the calls were becoming shorter and less frequent. Sometimes he was too exhausted after practice or cramming for a test to have a real conversation, and other times, the timing just didn't work—Emi was caught up in her art projects or classes, and their schedules didn't align.

It wasn't that he didn't miss her—he missed her more than ever. But he could feel the distance growing, and for the first time, he wasn't sure how to fix it.

One Friday evening, after an especially grueling week, Mike sat in his dorm room, staring at his phone. He had promised to call Emi that night, but it was already late, and he was exhausted. His roommates were out, probably at some party, but Mike couldn't find the energy to join them. All he wanted was to talk to Emi, to hear her voice and feel connected to her again.

But when he called, the phone rang several times before going to voicemail.

"Hey, it's Emi! Sorry I can't come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Mike let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. It wasn't the first time this had happened recently. He knew Emi was busy, but it still stung. He missed their long conversations, the easy way they used to talk about anything and everything. Lately, it felt like there was a wall between them, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break through.

He typed out a quick message instead:

Mike: Hey, I tried calling. Hope everything's okay. Miss you. Talk soon?

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed with a reply.

Emi: Hey, sorry I missed your call. I'm working on this big project that's due next week, and it's been crazy. I miss you too. Can we talk tomorrow?

Mike stared at the message for a moment, feeling the familiar ache of disappointment settle in his chest. It wasn't her fault—they were both busy, and he knew that. But still, it hurt to feel like they were slipping away from each other.

Mike: Yeah, tomorrow works. Good luck with your project.

He tossed his phone onto his bed and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. The space between them felt larger than it had ever been, and for the first time since they'd started their long-distance relationship, Mike began to wonder if they could really make this work.

The next day, they finally managed to catch up, but the conversation felt different. It wasn't as effortless as it used to be. There were more pauses, more awkward silences, and though they both tried to keep the conversation light, the tension between them was hard to ignore.

"So, how's everything going with soccer?" Emi asked, her voice sounding slightly distant through the phone.

"It's good," Mike replied, though his heart wasn't fully in it. "We've got a game next weekend. I'm really looking forward to it."

"That's great! I wish I could come and watch."

"Yeah," Mike said, feeling the same pang of longing he always felt when they talked about being together. "I wish you could too."

There was a pause, and Mike could hear the quiet hum of Emi's room in the background. She was probably sitting at her desk, sketching or working on some new project. Mike loved how passionate she was about her art, but he hated how it felt like that passion was slowly taking up more of her time, leaving less room for him.

"I'm sorry we haven't talked much lately," Emi said suddenly, breaking the silence. "I feel like I've been all over the place with school and everything. It's been hard to balance it all."

Mike let out a slow breath, trying to keep his frustration in check. "Yeah, I get it. I've been busy too."

"But I don't want you to think I'm not trying," Emi added quickly. "I am. I really miss you, Mike. It's just... hard."

"I know," Mike said, though the words felt hollow. "It's hard for me too."

They talked for a while longer, but the conversation eventually drifted into small talk—safe topics that didn't touch the deeper issues they were both avoiding. By the time they said goodbye, Mike felt more distant from Emi than ever.

A few weeks later, Mike was in the middle of soccer practice when his phone buzzed with a text from Emi. He glanced at it briefly, but didn't have time to respond until after practice. When he finally sat down to read the message, his heart sank.

Emi: I feel like we need to talk. Things haven't been the same lately.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Mike had known something was off, but seeing it in black and white made it real in a way he hadn't fully acknowledged. He had been hoping that if they just kept pushing through, things would get better. But now, it was clear that Emi felt the strain too.

He immediately called her, and after a few rings, she picked up.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice filled with uncertainty.

"Hey," Mike replied, his heart racing. "What's going on?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and Mike could hear Emi take a deep breath before speaking.

"I just... I don't know, Mike. Things feel different between us. We're both so busy, and I feel like we're drifting apart."

Mike closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. He had been dreading this conversation, but he knew it was inevitable. "Yeah, I've been feeling that too."

"I don't want to lose you," Emi said, her voice breaking slightly. "But it feels like we're both in different worlds now. And no matter how much we try, we can't seem to stay connected."

Mike's chest tightened at her words. He didn't want to admit it, but she was right. The distance, the demands of college, the constant pressure to make time for each other—it was all starting to wear on them.

"I don't want to lose you either," Mike said quietly. "But I don't know how to fix this."

There was another long pause, and when Emi spoke again, her voice was filled with sadness. "Maybe... maybe we need to take a step back. Not break up, but... just give each other some space to figure things out."

Mike's heart sank at the suggestion, but deep down, he knew it might be the only option. They had been fighting so hard to hold onto their relationship, but in doing so, they had put more pressure on themselves than either of them could handle.

"Yeah," Mike said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe you're right."

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken fears and emotions, but neither of them knew what else to say. They both understood what this meant—things were changing, and they couldn't stop it.

"I still love you, Mike," Emi said softly. "I don't want this to be the end. I just... need time."

"I love you too, Emi," Mike replied, his throat tight with emotion. "I'll give you whatever you need."

They said their goodbyes, but when the call ended, Mike felt hollow. He stared at his phone for a long time, unsure of what to do next. For the first time in years, his future with Emi felt uncertain.

The days that followed were filled with a strange kind of emptiness. Mike and Emi had agreed to give each other space, and while they hadn't broken up, it felt like they were no longer the couple they used to be. Mike tried to throw himself into his soccer practices and schoolwork, but it was hard to shake the feeling that something was missing.

He kept waiting for things to feel normal again, but the longer they stayed apart, the more Mike realized that things might never go back to the way they were.

One evening, as he sat alone in his dorm room, Mike pulled out his phone and scrolled through his old messages with Emi. The texts were filled with laughter, inside jokes, and declarations of love. It felt like a lifetime ago, even though it had only been a few months since they had started college.

He missed her. He missed them.

But as much as Mike wanted to fix things, he didn't know how.