Chapter 35

Chapter 35: Somewhere Between Goodbye and Forever

Emma stood by the window, fingers wrapped around a mug of lukewarm coffee, her eyes tracing the silhouette of Lucas as he packed his final bag. The San Francisco flight was in six hours. His internship—an incredible opportunity, the kind that opened doors most people only dreamed about—was officially real now.

So was the distance.

Lucas knelt by his suitcase, folding his last hoodie. Emma recognized it—the gray one with the fraying sleeves he wore when they stayed up late binging horror movies and eating microwave popcorn in bed.

"You sure you don't want to keep this?" she asked lightly, trying to smile.

He looked up, offering a tired grin. "You mean so you can wear it every night and cry into it?"

She laughed—because he was teasing, but also because it was kind of true.

Lucas stood and walked to her. "I want you to have it. It smells like me."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Charming."

But she held the hoodie close to her chest anyway.

They stood like that for a long moment, the air between them thick with everything unspoken. The "I'm going to miss you"s, the "What ifs," the silent promises they weren't sure how to keep.

"Do you think," Emma began, "we're strong enough for this?"

Lucas didn't hesitate. "Yes. But it's going to suck."

She nodded. "Yeah. A lot."

He cupped her face gently. "But it's not forever. Just a few months."

Emma searched his eyes, hungry for reassurance. "And then what?"

He swallowed. "We figure it out. Together."

---

The ride to the airport was quiet. Snow was falling again—soft, drifting flakes that made everything feel slower, like the world knew this moment mattered.

Lucas rested his hand on hers in the backseat of the cab, thumb brushing her knuckles. Emma leaned her head against his shoulder, eyes shut tight, memorizing the feel of him.

She didn't want to cry. She wanted to be brave. She wanted to be the girl who let the boy she loved chase his dreams without guilt, without hesitation.

But God, it was hard.

---

At the gate, they hugged like they were drowning.

Lucas kissed her temple. "Text me as soon as you get home."

"I will."

"And if you start feeling like you're drifting—call me. Doesn't matter the time."

Emma nodded, gripping the sleeves of his coat.

He leaned down, forehead against hers. "We're going to be okay. You hear me?"

"I hear you."

But her voice cracked, just a little.

Then the announcement came: Final boarding.

Lucas kissed her once—hard and full of every emotion they didn't have time to say out loud.

And then he turned and walked away.

---

Emma stood at the glass window long after his plane disappeared into the sky. She didn't notice the people brushing past her, didn't hear the chatter or announcements over the speaker.

She just stood there, hoodie in hand, heart aching like a bruise.

---

Two weeks later

Emma was trying to adjust. Trying to fall back into a routine.

Her days were full—gallery meetings, mural sketches, late-night ramen with Jade, and long solo walks through the city streets. Boston was alive with color, the early signs of spring peeking through snowbanks.

But even with all the motion, something inside her felt still. Still and waiting.

Lucas called every night. Sometimes they talked for hours—about their days, their dreams, their dumbest thoughts. Sometimes they just stayed on the phone silently, breathing in sync, the sound of his typing in the background as she painted.

It helped. But it wasn't the same.

She missed the weight of him in bed beside her. The way he knew when she was spiraling, even before she did. The way he'd steal her fries and kiss her shoulder and make her feel like she wasn't too much or too little—but just right.

Still, she reminded herself: This was the deal. They had chosen to support each other's dreams. And dreams were never easy.

---

One night, three weeks in, the silence on the phone felt heavier than usual.

"You okay?" Emma asked.

Lucas hesitated. "I got invited to a networking dinner. A big one. A lot of investors."

"That's great!"

"Yeah," he said. "But… there's someone there who wants to offer me a job. After the internship."

Emma froze. "A job?"

He sighed. "Yeah. Full-time. Six figures. It's—huge."

A pause.

"And it's… in San Francisco," she said quietly.

"Yeah."

Silence stretched.

"Have you said yes?" she asked, voice tight.

"No. I wanted to talk to you first."

Emma swallowed hard. She didn't want to be the girl who asked him to give up his future. But she also couldn't ignore the panic crawling up her spine.

"Do you want it?"

"I don't know," Lucas admitted. "It's everything I've worked for. But… it's not everything I want."

Emma stared at the ceiling. "Do you think we could do long-distance again? For longer?"

Lucas was quiet. Then: "I don't want to just survive with you, Emma. I want to live with you."

Tears pricked her eyes. "I know."

"I just… I don't want us to break because the world wants us in two different places."

Emma wiped her face. "Then we find a third place."

Lucas chuckled, a little broken. "What, like Texas?"

She laughed through her tears. "God, no."

But the idea stuck. A third place. Not Boston. Not San Francisco. Somewhere else. Somewhere new.

Maybe they didn't have to choose between one or the other.

Maybe they could start over—again.

Great! Here's the second installment of Chapter 35, continuing directly from where we left off. This section brings us deeper into Emma and Lucas's emotional decision-making, their growing clarity about the future, and a shift in their love story's direction.

Three days later

Emma stood in her kitchen, her fingers smudged with blue paint. She hadn't meant to start a new piece tonight, but her thoughts had been swirling, her emotions too loud to silence. So she did what she always did when she felt lost—she painted.

On the canvas was a road—curving, messy, undefined. In the center were two small silhouettes, walking hand in hand under a crimson sky.

She didn't know where they were going. Only that they were going there together.

Her phone buzzed.

Lucas: Are you up?

Emma wiped her hands on a towel and FaceTimed him. His face appeared instantly, a little grainy, eyes tired, hair a mess. He was sitting in what looked like a shared dorm kitchen, a cold slice of pizza in hand.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

He nodded. "Yeah. Just… needed to see you."

Emma smiled faintly. "Good. I was starting to forget your face."

He smirked. "Impossible."

They sat in silence for a beat, letting the screen be enough.

Then Lucas exhaled. "I told them no."

Emma blinked. "The job?"

He nodded. "I told them I can't take it—not right now, not if it means staying here for years, away from everything that actually matters to me."

Tears stung her eyes again. "Lucas…"

"I'm not giving up," he said quickly. "I'm just not settling. Not if it costs me you."

Emma bit her lip, heart thudding. "So what now?"

He leaned forward. "I've been thinking… What if we moved somewhere together after I finish here? Somewhere new. A fresh start. New city. You can apply to those art grants, I can freelance or look for start-ups. Something flexible. Something ours."

She blinked. "Are you serious?"

He grinned. "Dead serious. I even Googled top ten cities for young creatives. Want to guess number one?"

She giggled. "Please don't say Portland."

"Okay. I won't say Portland."

Emma laughed, full this time, the ache in her chest breaking into warmth.

"A new city," she said, trying it on for size. "You and me. Just… figuring it out."

He nodded. "We're not those kids from last year anymore, Em. We've been through hell and back. If we can survive all of that, we can build a home anywhere."

Emma stared at him, chest swelling with something sharp and sweet.

She didn't have to imagine what their apartment might look like. It would be a mess—half-eaten cereal boxes, mismatched furniture, his dirty socks under the couch. Her paints everywhere.

But it would be theirs.

---

Two months later

Spring in Boston came fast—flowers blooming, air warming, everything shedding its gray. Emma was finishing her final mural downtown, a massive 30-foot piece filled with color and movement. It was her goodbye to the city.

Lucas flew in the next day.

She waited for him outside baggage claim, nervous energy bouncing in her limbs. When he finally stepped through the gate, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, eyes scanning the crowd—Emma ran to him.

He dropped the bag and caught her mid-jump, spinning her once, hard.

"You cut your hair," he said breathlessly.

"You noticed."

He grinned. "You always look like art."

She kissed him, right there in the airport, in front of strangers and arriving passengers and blinking taxi signs. Because it didn't matter anymore. Time, place, fear—it was all noise.

He was here.

They were here.

---

They spent a week in Boston, packing, saying goodbye to friends, visiting all their old spots. The first place they kissed. The coffee shop she'd stormed out of. The tiny bookstore where he bought her a vintage sketchpad.

It wasn't sad. It was… sacred. Like closing a chapter with love.

Then they drove.

Three days across the country, just the two of them, a car full of bags, too many snacks, playlists that made them sing off-key. They stopped at diners and cheap motels and scenic overlooks. They laughed until they cried, fought over GPS directions, made love in the backseat under a canopy of stars.

And then they reached it.

Denver.

The city was gold with sunlight, mountains on one side, the heartbeat of creativity on the other. They had a small apartment waiting—a fourth-floor walk-up with one bedroom and paint stains on the floor.

It was perfect.