Two months.

  That’s how long it had been since Evan left Tokyo.

  Since the fireworks. Since the promises whispered under a neon sky.

  For the most part, they had made it work.

  Calls, texts, care packages crossing oceans — Aki had sent him matcha snacks and a hand-drawn postcard; Evan had mailed her a scarf from a rainy London market that he said “smelled like fog and adventure.”

  But reality, as always, had a way of creeping in.

  Aki stared at her phone, the screen glowing with the message that had just arrived.

  Evan: I have to cancel next month’s trip. I’m so sorry, Aki. I fought for it, but there’s a big assignment… I can’t get away.

  She read it again, her chest tightening.

  This trip had been their light at the end of the tunnel.

  Evan was supposed to fly back to Tokyo for a week — they had made lists of places to visit, joked about recreating their first disastrous ramen date.

  And now… gone.

  Aki let the phone fall onto her bed and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

  It wasn’t his fault.

  She knew that. Life happened. Work happened.

  But knowing didn’t make the hollow ache any less sharp.

  Meanwhile, in London, Evan sat slumped at his desk, frustration simmering beneath his skin.

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  He hated sending that message.

  For weeks, he’d been clashing with his editor, trying to rearrange deadlines, offering to work remotely from Tokyo — but in the end, the answer had been no.

  And now, he pictured Aki reading his words, her face falling in that quiet way she did when she was disappointed but trying not to show it.

  He ran a hand through his hair, debating whether to call or give her space.

  Before he could decide, his phone buzzed.

  Aki: I understand. Work is work.

  But… I miss you.

  Evan exhaled, guilt twisting in his gut.

  Evan: I miss you too. More than I can say. Let’s talk tonight?

  A simple heart emoji was her reply.

  But even through the screen, Evan could feel the distance growing — not just the miles, but the weight of postponed plans and unspoken fears.

  That night, they video called as promised.

  Aki sat cross-legged in her room, playing with the edge of her pillowcase, her smile softer than usual.

  “I’m sorry,” Evan said immediately, his voice low and earnest. “I wanted to be there. I still do.”

  “I know,” Aki said, her gaze dropping. “It’s just… hard.”

  They both fell silent, the kind of silence where too many words were tangled up in both their throats.

  Finally, Aki looked up, her eyes bright but steady.

  “Do you ever wonder,” she asked carefully, “if this is… too much?”

  Evan’s stomach dropped.

  “Too much?” he echoed, panic creeping in.

  Aki shook her head quickly. “I don’t mean us. I mean… the distance. The waiting. The uncertainty.”

  Evan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  “Every day,” he admitted. “But I’d rather have this — have you — from miles away than not at all.”

  Aki’s lips quirked into a sad little smile. “Me too.”

  She reached toward the screen, as if she could touch him through it.

  “I just… I needed to say it out loud. That it’s hard. But I’m not giving up.”

  Evan felt something loosen in his chest — a mix of relief and love so fierce it almost hurt.

  “Neither am I,” he said. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

  Aki nodded, wiping at the corner of her eye.

  Then, with a watery laugh, she said, “Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t live off instant noodles and bad coffee.”

  Evan grinned. “I knew you were only in this for my health.”

  They talked for another hour — not about the canceled trip, but about silly things: a stray cat Aki had befriended, Evan’s disastrous attempt at baking, the playlist they were building together song by song.

  By the end of the call, the knot in Aki’s chest had eased.

  Love, she realized, wasn’t just fireworks and perfect days.

  It was this — choosing each other even when things didn’t go to plan.

  Especially then.

  The next morning, Aki woke to a message.

  Evan: Check your email. I had an idea.

  Still groggy, she opened her laptop — and immediately gasped.

  It was a flight confirmation.

  London. Two months from now.

  Her hands flew to her mouth as tears blurred her vision.

  Another message popped up.

  Evan: If I can’t come to Tokyo yet, then maybe it’s time you come see my world. What do you say?

  Aki’s heart swelled so fast she thought it might burst.

  Her fingers danced across the keyboard.

  Aki: I say… I’ll see you soon.

  And for the first time in days, the distance didn’t feel like a wall.

  It felt like a road — one they were walking together.