Chapter 10: Love in the Space Between

The airport was colder than Emmanuel expected. Not because of the air conditioning or the early morning breeze outside, but because of the quiet weight pressing down on everyone there. Luggage wheels hummed across the tiles. Announcements buzzed overhead. But all Emmanuel could hear was his heartbeat — steady, but heavy.

Funmi stood beside him, wrapped in his hoodie. Her arms were crossed tight over her chest like she was holding herself together.

"This is it," she said quietly, looking up at the departure screen.

He nodded. "Yeah."

They stood in silence, staring at the blinking letters beside his flight number. On Time.

She smiled faintly. "You're really going."

"I am."

"And I'm proud of you."

Emmanuel swallowed hard. "I'm proud of us."

He turned to her fully, memorizing everything — the curve of her smile, the way her eyes shimmered even when she tried not to cry, the scent of her lavender lotion. "I don't even know how to do this," he admitted. "Say goodbye to you."

"You don't have to," Funmi whispered. "It's not a goodbye. It's... a see-you-later."

He chuckled softly, but the sound caught in his throat. "You know you've been my everything, right?"

"You've been mine too."

The last few weeks had been a blur. After the letter, time seemed to move faster. They had filled every moment with memories — late-night walks, quiet dinners, even just studying together in silence. And in between all that, Funmi continued caring for her mother, who had recently started showing small signs of recovery. Life was beginning to stabilize... just in time for it to change again.

"I wish I could pack you in my suitcase," Emmanuel said, half-joking, half-serious.

Funmi laughed, then wiped a tear. "You'd probably forget me at baggage claim."

He smiled. "Never."

The final boarding call echoed through the terminal.

They both froze.

"This is it," Funmi said again, voice cracking.

Emmanuel pulled her into a long embrace. "One year. Just one. And I'll come back better, stronger, more in love with you than ever."

"I believe you," she said against his chest. "Just don't lose yourself there."

"I won't," he promised. "Because the best part of me is you."

They held on, refusing to let go until the last possible second.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you more."

And then, he walked toward the gate.

She stood still, watching him fade behind the crowd. Her chest ached, but her heart — strangely — was full.

---

One year later.

The café smelled just the same — rich coffee, hints of cinnamon, soft music playing in the background. Funmi sat at the corner booth, stirring her drink slowly, her phone in hand.

No new messages.

Her hair was a little longer now. Her eyes still sparkled, but carried the weight of someone who had learned to live with a kind of waiting.

A soft chime rang as the door opened.

She didn't look up at first.

Then she heard the voice — low, familiar, trembling slightly. "Funmi."

She froze.

When she turned around, Emmanuel stood there — thinner, a little older, wearing the same smile she used to dream about.

He took a step forward, hesitant. "Can I sit?"

She nodded, her throat tight. "Of course."

He slid into the seat across from her. They just stared for a while, saying nothing, breathing in the reality of finally being in the same space again.

"You came back," she whispered.

"I never left," he said.

But something had changed — something subtle. Life had moved, time had passed, and though their connection still lingered like a song's last note, it wasn't exactly the same melody.

"You look different," she said.

"So do you."

A silence passed. This wasn't the reunion they had imagined. There were no dramatic hugs, no kisses in the rain. Just two people who had loved deeply, and who were now trying to find where they fit in each other's stories.

"Do you still love me?" she asked quietly.

Emmanuel looked at her for a long time. "Yes," he said. "But I think we've both changed. Haven't we?"

She nodded slowly. "We have."

Another pause. Then he reached across the table, took her hand, and smiled.

"Maybe that's okay," he said. "Maybe love isn't about staying the same... but finding each other again in who we've become."

Her eyes softened. "Then let's start there."

They sipped their coffee in silence.

Not a fairytale ending.

But a real one.