CHAPTER 3: THE REUNION

The weeks following Nora's decision to accept the publisher's contract blurred into a whirlwind of deadlines and sketches. Her Brooklyn sublet became a makeshift studio, its walls pinned with drawings of Lila, her fictional girl who turned loneliness into art. Nora's days were filled with emails from Priya, revisions to her manuscript, and late-night coffee runs to fuel her creativity. But every night, no matter how tired, she carved out time for Liam.Their calls were a lifeline, stitched together across time zones. Liam's schedule was relentless—flights to Hong Kong, Cape Town, and back to Paris—but he'd call from hotel rooms or airport lounges, his voice crackling with static but warm with affection. He'd describe the aurora borealis from a redeye over Greenland or send her photos of quirky airport signs. Nora, in turn, shared snippets of her work—a sketch of Lila stargazing, a doodle of a coffee cup with Liam's name scrawled on it. Once, he mailed her a postcard from Tokyo with a haiku: Sky pulls me away / But your sketches bring me home / Paris waits for us.Three months into her New York stay, Liam's schedule aligned with a layover at JFK. Nora could barely sleep the night before, her excitement tinged with nerves. Would it feel the same, seeing him face-to-face after so long? Their love had grown through screens and scribbled notes, but distance had a way of testing even the strongest bonds.She arrived at the airport early, clutching her sketchbook like a talisman. The arrivals hall buzzed with reunions—families hugging, couples kissing, drivers holding signs. Nora stood near the gate, her heart pounding as passengers trickled out. Then she saw him, striding through the crowd in his pilot's uniform, his cap slightly askew, his eyes scanning until they locked on hers."Nora," he said, his grin splitting wide as he closed the distance. He dropped his duffel bag and pulled her into a hug, lifting her slightly off the ground. She laughed, burying her face in his shoulder, breathing in the faint scent of his cologne and the crispness of his jacket. It was him—real, solid, not a pixelated image or a voice through a phone."You're here," she murmured, pulling back to look at him. His hazel eyes were brighter than she remembered, crinkling at the edges."Told you I'd rack up those miles," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "God, I missed you."They left the airport hand in hand, the December chill biting at their fingers as they hopped into a cab to Manhattan. Liam had only 24 hours before his next flight, and Nora was determined to make every second count. She took him to her favorite diner, the one she'd sketched for him months ago. Over pancakes and bottomless coffee, they caught up—her book's progress, his latest turbulence scare over the Atlantic, the way they'd both counted down to this moment."You're killing it with the book," Liam said, flipping through her sketchbook, which now held dozens of Lila's adventures. "This one's my favorite." He pointed to a drawing of Lila flying a paper plane, a starry sky above her.Nora smiled. "Inspired by someone I know."After breakfast, they wandered through Central Park, the trees bare but dusted with fresh snow. Liam pulled her onto a bench, wrapping his scarf around her neck when she shivered. "So," he said, his tone shifting to something softer, "how's it going? Really. New York, the book, all of it."She leaned against him, the weight of the past months spilling out. "It's amazing, but… hard. I love the work, but I miss Paris. I miss you. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, coming back here."He took her hand, his thumb tracing circles on her palm. "You did. This book—it's you, Nora. It's what you've been working toward. And I'm not going anywhere. Well," he chuckled, "except for flights, but you know what I mean."She nodded, but the doubt lingered. "What about us? Six months is turning into nine with the way they're extending deadlines. What if we keep missing each other?"Liam was quiet for a moment, his gaze on the snow-dusted path. Then he turned to her, his expression steady. "I've been thinking about that. I applied for a transfer to a New York base. It's not guaranteed, but… I want to be closer to you. If you're here, I'm here."Nora's breath caught. "Liam, that's… huge. You love Paris.""I love you more," he said simply, and the words landed like a warm ember in her chest.She kissed him, the cold forgotten, the park fading around them. When they pulled apart, she laughed, her breath puffing in the air. "You're gonna freeze in New York winters, Captain.""Worth it," he said, grinning.They spent the rest of the day exploring—hot chocolate at a rink-side café, a quick visit to the Met where Nora sketched a statue and Liam made up a ridiculous backstory for it. That night, in her tiny apartment, they cooked a makeshift dinner of pasta and cheap wine, laughing when the smoke alarm went off from their overzealous attempt at garlic bread. Later, curled up on her couch, Nora showed him her latest sketch: Lila and a pilot boy, flying a plane together, a heart-shaped cloud below."It's us," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.Liam kissed her forehead. "Always."The next morning came too soon. At the airport, Nora clung to him, her sketchbook tucked under her arm. "Next time," she said, "I'm coming to you. Paris, New York, doesn't matter.""Deal," he said, kissing her one last time before heading to his gate. "Check your bag."Puzzled, she unzipped her bag after he disappeared. Inside was a napkin, folded neatly, with his handwriting: You're my home, Nora. See you in the sky. Tucked beside it was a tiny paper plane, folded with pilot precision.She smiled, tucking the napkin into her sketchbook. Back in her apartment, she pinned it to her wall, next to Lila's drawings. The months ahead would be tough—more deadlines, more flights, more time apart. But as she sketched a new page—a plane soaring over two cities, a star guiding it home—she knew they'd make it. Their love, born in the clouds, was strong enough to bridge any distance.