The Distance Between Us

The airport felt different this time.

No more mistaken identities. No frantic explanations. No humiliating first impressions.

This time, Elena stood at the departure gate with her passport in one hand and her heart in the other.

Aidan was behind the glass, watching her. Their fingers pressed against opposite sides, separated by cold, transparent plastic—but joined by everything else.

"Last call for Flight 228 to Rome," the speaker announced.

She took a deep breath. Her chest ached—not from doubt, but from the sheer depth of emotion.

Aidan smiled. "Go, Elena."

She didn't move.

"Elena," he said softly, "we've done harder things than this."

"Exactly," she replied. "That's what scares me. We made it through so much. What if we can't make it through... peace?"

He chuckled. "Then we fight again. We argue, we make up, we grow. That's what we do."

Her lips trembled. "Promise me this doesn't fade."

He placed his palm flat against the glass again. "I promise it'll change. But it'll grow stronger."

Tears slipped down her cheek. She hated this part—the leaving. But she knew this wasn't running. It was chasing.

"I'll call you the moment I land."

"I'll be waiting," he said.

She blew him a kiss and turned away, heart pounding like a war drum. She didn't dare look back.

**

Three weeks later, the ache remained—but so did the warmth.

They talked every night, regardless of time zones.

He sent her photos of sunsets and bad coffee. She sent him voice notes full of late-night laughter and project updates.

And yet, one thing gnawed at both of them—distance had a habit of twisting things, even love.

Elena stood outside her tiny new apartment one cold evening, her scarf tucked tight as she stared at her phone.

She wanted more than a screen. She wanted him.

And just as she was about to call, her phone buzzed.

A video call.

Aidan.

She answered it instantly. "You read my mind."

"I'm not on the phone," he said, grinning.

"What?"

And then she turned—he was standing there, in front of her building, holding a bag and wearing the same stupid grin from their airport reunion.

Her jaw dropped. "Aidan?"

"I couldn't wait any longer."

She rushed down the stairs, straight into his arms. For a moment, the cold, the distance, the fear—it all vanished.

"I thought you had meetings."

"I moved them. What's more important than kissing the woman I love?"

She laughed into his chest. "God, I missed you."

He held her tighter. "No more screens. No more glass walls. Just you and me."

And right there, on the cobbled street outside her building, they kissed like the world had paused just for them.