Chapter 5: The Space Between Us

Jack was restless.

It wasn't the kind of restlessness he was used to—the kind that had him throwing his camera into a bag and heading for the next city without looking back. This was different.

It started small. A lingering thought, a passing distraction. But now, it was constant. Sophie was always in the back of his mind.

Conversations that once felt effortless left him feeling empty when they ended. The moment she said goodnight, he would stare at the screen for too long, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as if he could will her to say something more.

And then, there were the moments in between.

The odd times of the day when something reminded him of her. A coffee shop playlist playing a song they had joked about. A random book in an airport shop that he knew she'd love. A passing conversation about universities that made him think of her lectures, picturing her standing in front of a classroom, completely in her element.

He had never been the type to dwell on people like this.

But then again, he had never met anyone like Sophie.

And now, he was starting to wonder if waiting was a mistake.

It was late when he messaged her.

The night was quiet around him—just the hum of the city outside his window, the dim glow of his laptop screen illuminating the hotel room. He had spent the last three hours going through photos from a shoot, but he couldn't focus. Not really.

So, he did what had become second nature. He opened their chat.

Jack: Tell me something interesting.

A minute passed. Then—

Sophie: Define interesting.

Jack: Something that'll keep me from dying of boredom in this depressing hotel room.

Sophie: You? Bored? I thought you were the master of adventure, the king of spontaneity.

Jack: Even kings get tired.

There was a pause. Jack let his head fall back against the pillow, waiting. Wondering if she could feel it too—this strange, unspoken thing between them that had only grown heavier over time.

Then, her reply popped up.

Sophie: Alright. Did you know that octopuses have three hearts?

He laughed.

Jack: Okay, that's actually mildly interesting. But now I have follow-up questions.

Sophie: Of course you do.

Jack: If an octopus falls in love, do all three hearts speed up? Or just one?

Sophie: Jack.

Jack: What? It's a valid question.

Sophie: No, it's you trying to turn a biology fact into a deep, philosophical conversation about feelings.

Jack: Maybe.

Sophie: Maybe?

Jack: Fine. Yes.

Sophie: You're impossible.

Jack: You're still talking to me, so what does that say about you?

There was another pause. He could picture her—probably sitting on her couch with a cup of tea, rolling her eyes at her screen, biting back a smile. The image made something tighten in his chest.

And before he could stop himself, he typed it.

Jack: Let's call.

A beat.

Then another.

The three dots appeared—then vanished.

Then appeared again.

His heart kicked up in his chest.

Sophie: A phone call?

Jack: Yeah. You know, one of those things where you hear someone's voice instead of just reading their words?

He was trying to keep it light, but his pulse was hammering.

She took longer to reply this time.

Sophie: I… don't know.

Jack frowned, running a hand through his hair. He didn't know why he had suggested it. He just knew that reading her messages wasn't enough anymore. He wanted to hear her. He wanted to know what her laughter sounded like, what her voice would do to him in real time.

Jack: Why not?

Sophie: I just—

She stopped.

Jack: Sophie.

Sophie: I want to, I do. But… I feel like if we do this, we can't go back.

Jack stared at the words, something in his chest tightening.

Because she was right.

A phone call wouldn't just be a call. It would be a step forward. A shift from anonymity into something more.

And once they did that, there would be no pretending that this was just casual anymore.

He should have pushed. Should have told her that they had already crossed that line, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

But instead, he typed:

Jack: Fair enough.

And just like that, the moment passed.

The distance between them, the one they had been so carefully ignoring, suddenly felt bigger.

They fell back into old habits.

Joking. Teasing. Pretending things were normal.

Jack: Okay, since we're apparently keeping things traditional, let's get back to octopus hearts. I need closure.

Sophie: Jack.

Jack: No, hear me out. I need to know if all three hearts break at the same time or if it's a slow, tragic process.

Sophie: I regret telling you this fact.

Jack: Too late. You've changed my entire perception of marine life. I'll never look at an octopus the same way again.

He could almost hear her laughing.

Almost.

And for now, almost would have to be enough.

But deep down, Jack knew the truth.

This wasn't sustainable.

One day, they would have to stop pretending. One day, waiting wouldn't be enough anymore.

And when that day came, he had no idea if they'd take the leap—or let the distance break them apart.