Time felt different when it could finally be measured.
For months, their love had lived in a haze of someday. But now, there was a number they could both hold onto.
Seven.
Seven days until the flight.
Seven days until screens would no longer be the only bridge between them.
---
Evan's desk was littered with notes—reminders for work deadlines, lists of things to pack, sticky notes with scribbled thoughts like don't forget charger and buy flowers. But in the middle of the clutter, he kept a small printed ticket. His first real proof that this wasn't just a dream anymore.
Meanwhile, in Yogyakarta, Luna began cleaning her room obsessively. It wasn't that Evan would even stay there—her dorm rules wouldn't allow it—but she wanted everything around her to feel ready. She folded clothes twice, rearranged bookshelves, and even bought a new curtain just because it made the place look brighter.
Her friends noticed.
"Why are you glowing all of a sudden?" one asked.
She only smiled. Some things were too sacred to explain casually.
---
Their calls changed too.
No longer filled with distant longing, but with small countdowns.
"Six days," Evan would say, brushing his teeth with his phone on the sink.
"Five days," Luna whispered into the line while watching the sunset from her dorm window.
Sometimes they didn't even say it out loud. They just knew.
---
But with anticipation came fear.
One night, Luna asked softly, "What if it feels different? What if it's not the same?"
Evan took a deep breath, staring at the glow of his phone screen in the dark.
"Then we'll find a new 'same.' Together."
---
He didn't tell her this, but every night before sleeping, he imagined their first meeting. Would she run to him? Would she hesitate? Would he? The thought twisted his stomach into knots.
Yet beneath the nerves, there was something stronger.
Something steady.
A belief that love wasn't about perfection.
It was about showing up.
And in one week, he finally would.