In time, their lives began to repair in ways neither expected. Maya immersed herself in work and a class on urban design that changed how she saw the city. She also acquired new friends: Priya, a lawyer and crown-rattler and Tom, a barista-poet who gave her change with lines of poetry etched on receipts. They took her to a dance session where she was taught how to move without having to plan on which steps to take.
In Lisbon, Arjun discovered a rhythm which he had not known he was missing: light in the city, the smell of bread in the morning, the silence of museums. He encountered Ana who was a ceramicist and her laugh caused his edges to melt. Ana showed him how to create bowls, non-photographic bowls that you could pick up in your hand; in their studio they would share tales that had nothing to do with flights or assignments.
Both of them indulged in the gradual, startling flowering of other types of love-friends-turned-family, teachers-turned-patients. These affections never substituted what they knew together; instead they occupied spaces in their lives that had previously been vacant.
Their new lives periodically collided with recollections of common pasta suppers or the form of the other person's hand. They were learning not to attempt to fuse two hearts together. It was a lesson in humility: love can sometimes mean letting someone become whatever she or he is supposed to be, even though that person may no longer be you.