Ethan woke up earlier than usual. The first thing he did, almost out of habit, was to reach for his phone. The screen lit up with a new message from Aria.
> "Good morning, sleepyhead. Did you dream of me again?"
He smiled, his chest warming at her words. For a moment, the small apartment he lived in felt less lonely.
He typed back slowly, wanting every word to carry the weight of his affection:
> "I did. You were laughing, and we were walking side by side. It felt so real that I almost forgot we're still miles apart."
The reply didn't come immediately. He knew Aria was probably getting ready for her day. Still, he left the chat open, staring at her profile picture—a candid photo she had once sent of herself at the train station.
Minutes later, the phone buzzed.
> "Then we just need to make that dream real, don't we?"
His heart thumped. Aria's words were simple, but behind them was a promise. Not just of their next call, not just of their next late-night conversation, but of a future they were both stubbornly holding onto.
---
Later that morning, Ethan prepared coffee for himself. He placed two cups on the table, out of habit. One for him, and an empty one that he imagined was for Aria. It had become a quiet ritual—something that kept her presence alive in his daily routine.
On the other side of the world, Aria sat at her desk by the window, a soft breeze lifting her hair. She opened her notebook and scribbled down the words Ethan had sent her, as if writing them preserved them forever.
She whispered softly to herself, "One day, this won't be just messages… it'll be us, sitting together, drinking from real cups."
---
That evening, their call lasted longer than usual. No grand topics, no dramatic confessions—just shared silences, laughter, and the occasional glance into each other's tired eyes through the glowing screen.
For them, that was enough.
For now, love was in the small things—the unspoken rhythm of two hearts beating in sync despite the distance.