Where the Sky Doesn’t Hold Her Name

Gadis's side

11,765 kilometers. That's the distance I'm about to travel tonight—roughly 18 hours in the air, maybe more with delays and layovers. Eighteen hours surrounded by clouds and recycled air, carrying a heart heavier than my suitcase. Alya ran away from me. Again, I hurt her. And once again, all I could do was curse myself—for my fear, for my reflex, for pushing her away when all I wanted was to pull her close.

I blamed my trembling hands. I blamed the dust in the air for clouding my thoughts. I blamed the anxiety that painted terrifying images in my mind without my permission.

Eighteen hours. I told myself that's how long I'd need to forget her. To reset everything—to wipe the slate clean, pretend that none of it had ever happened. That it was just a breeze that passed me by. But how can a breeze stay with you like a scar?

Can eighteen hours erase the feeling I've been burying for hundreds of days? I don't know. But at least I'm trying. At least I have that. People say effort never betrays the result. I believe that—maybe foolishly, maybe desperately. But I believe it. So, I'll try.

⸻

Six Months Later

"So, you're extending your visa?" Anya asked from the other side of the world.

Despite the time difference, we still managed the occasional video call or short messages. She was one of the few people who still made an effort.

"Not exactly extending," I replied, half-focused, "I'm converting it to a working-student visa. So I can keep studying while working legally."

Half a year into my studies here, I'd applied for an internship on a whim at a fairly well-known company. What I thought would be a short-term thing turned into something bigger—the HR team welcomed me with open arms. They even offered to help sponsor my visa if I performed well. Suddenly, this foreign city felt a little less like a temporary stop and a little more like… maybe something real.

In the past six months, I buried myself in work and my thesis. I told myself that erasing memories required force, and I became relentless. My nose bled more than once from exhaustion. Even when my older brother and Anya came to visit, I couldn't take time off. I had deadlines, presentations, drafts to edit. I wasn't myself anymore. The version of me who used to wander through life without direction had somehow become this.

And Alya? Since that night… we lost contact. The silence between us became its own kind of language. I heard updates through Ujo or Dava, who visited her sometimes at her new apartment. Ujo once asked why I hadn't reached out. I blamed my schedule. It was the easiest excuse. And partially true—if they hadn't texted or called, I probably wouldn't have contacted anyone back home at all.

I thought drowning myself in deadlines would wash Alya out of my system. But it didn't. At night, when the world quieted down, I'd find myself staring at the empty side of my bed, aching for the way she used to wrap her arms around me when the world felt too heavy. And suddenly, all the memories I'd tried to bury would come rushing back like waves. I've tried. I really have. But healing doesn't follow deadlines.

⸻

"Okay, Miss Gadis. This is your desk. And this," said Miss Steven, gesturing toward a kind-eyed man beside me, "is Ruben. He'll be your partner."

Ruben. A Manchester-born local with a calm demeanor and a constant soft smile. I'd never seen him annoyed or rushed. He worked with grace, with a steadiness that put others at ease. One day, while I was drowning in overlapping tasks, Ruben offered to help me with my share.

"Gadis, do you have time this weekend?"

"I've got classes on Saturday," I sighed, "and Sunday I need to tackle a mountain of assignments."

"Busy bee," he chuckled.

I just gave him a tired smile.

"How about I help you on Sunday? With your assignments?"

My eyes widened in disbelief. Of course I nodded—Ruben was sharp, quicker than most of our coworkers. He could probably do my paper in his sleep.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'll swing by your apartment. But you owe me lunch."

"With pleasure," I grinned.

Days passed, and with time, the rhythm of my life began to settle. I'd been in Manchester for almost a year now. The city started to feel familiar, almost comforting. Ujo and Dava's promises to visit never materialized—life back home was too hectic. I used to feel lonely here. But Ruben changed that. He helped with school, with work, introduced me to his circle, took me on weekend rides around the city. We wandered through art galleries, sat in parks just watching birds and sunlit grass, even tried operas I barely understood.

"Ruben, why don't you ever ask me to watch football with you?" I teased one afternoon.

He looked at me, a little startled. "Do you want to?"

I shook my head, laughing. I knew Ruben wasn't like the typical football-obsessed Mancunian. He preferred culture, quiet.

"So… you passed your probation?" he asked one day.

"Hm. I guess I'm officially your partner now," I said, a little proud.

Ruben smiled and reached into his bag. "I have something for you."

"A gift?"

He handed me a small silver box. Inside was a delicate silver necklace with a tiny heart pendant. I looked at him, confused.

"Will you be my real partner, Gadis?" he asked softly.

I didn't know what I was thinking. Maybe it was the right way to finally let go of the past. Maybe this was a chance to start anew. I nodded slowly. Ruben smiled brightly, his joy so genuine it pierced something inside me. He clasped the necklace around my neck, then kissed me gently.

I didn't pull away.

I didn't cry.

And for once, I didn't feel haunted by Alya's shadow.

Was this right or wrong? I didn't know. Maybe I was using his kindness to fix the broken pieces inside me. Maybe that was unfair. But this time, I wouldn't run. I told myself I'd stay. That I'd give this a real chance. That what I had—and needed—was right here, in front of me.

I completed my degree. I skipped the graduation ceremony at my home university. Ujo and Dava took care of the paperwork, made sure my diploma would be sent to me. I had a full-time job now. I had someone by my side. That should be enough, right?

Yes. I told myself it was enough.

And I made a decision—I would stay here. I wouldn't go back. Because if I ever set foot there again, I was afraid my heart would betray me.

So here I am, trying to believe that enough… is enough.