When Distance Speaks Louder

Two weeks.

That's how long it had been since Mira handed in the folder at Elan Corp—and since she last saw Noah.

The city moved on without hesitation, and Mira buried herself in freelance projects, redesigning an eco-architecture firm's branding and helping a local gallery relaunch its visual identity. It kept her hands busy, her thoughts mostly occupied—but at night, when the lights dimmed and the world quieted, she missed him.

Not just the flirtation or the fire—they had that in spades—but the quiet understanding, the way his silence made room for hers.

But distance had been necessary.

One night, as she sorted through old drafts, her phone buzzed.

Noah:

Still in Paris. Thought of you when I saw the street mural near Montmartre. It was messy. Beautiful. Honest. Like you.

Mira stared at the message, heart thumping. She didn't reply.

She couldn't—not until she knew where she stood with herself.

But his words stayed with her.

Across the ocean, Noah sat in a small studio apartment, the glow of the Eiffel Tower seeping through the window. Paris was everything he remembered—alive, romantic, ambitious—but it wasn't the same without her.

He met with high-profile clients, discussed strategies with bold-faced names, yet every quiet moment pulled his thoughts back to a certain stubborn girl with ink-stained fingers and a heart stitched from grief and grit.

He wanted to call.

He didn't.

He respected her space.

But he couldn't help the way he lingered on her Instagram stories, zoomed in when she posted sketches or café snapshots.

Meanwhile, Mira found herself sketching without realizing it—patterns that mirrored Parisian windows, a silhouette with his profile, unfinished but familiar.

One day, she stopped mid-sketch.

She was healing. Slowly. But it was happening.

That weekend, at her favorite coffee shop, she bumped into Claudia—her former boss at the marketing firm who had once fired her.

Claudia blinked in surprise. "Mira. You look… different."

"Different how?"

"Stronger," Claudia said. "Clearer."

They spoke over coffee. By the end, Claudia offered Mira a role as a creative director in a new venture—something smaller, more flexible, and made with people like Mira in mind.

Mira smiled, this time without hesitation. "I'll think about it."

She didn't need to say yes or no immediately.

For once, she was allowed to choose.

That night, she opened her drafts folder, added a new sketch, and titled it:

Paris, from memory.

Then, with a soft breath and a stronger heart, she finally messaged Noah back.

Mira:

Still a little messy. But I'm learning to like it that way. Missed you.

It was short. But it was real.

And maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something beautiful.