Three months later Claire decided to give Lucas a surprise visit without leaving Any clue.
The plane touched down on a humid June evening, the airport full of familiar noises and smells. Claire stepped off with a backpack and a heart full of mixed emotions—relief, anticipation, fear.
She hadn't told Lucas she was arriving early. She didn't know what she expected—but she knew she needed to see him without preamble, without messaging first, without weeks of typing dots and emojis to soften the silence.
Emma picked her up, squealing when she saw her.
"We're going straight to Max's," Emma announced. "Lucas is there. He has no idea you're back."
Claire's stomach flipped.
Twenty minutes later, she stood in the familiar hallway outside Max's apartment. The laughter inside was muffled, warm.
Emma knocked once before swinging the door open.
"Hey guys, I brought a surprise."
Lucas wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary that evening.
It was a Thursday. He had just come back from work, kicked off his shoes, and started boiling water for tea. Max was in the sitting room, and Lucas planned to spend the evening with him catching up on a fantasy novel and maybe texting Claire—if the time zone worked out.
He hadn't heard from her that day. But that wasn't unusual. Between her final papers and life in Copenhagen, their communication had settled into a gentle ebb and flow. Sometimes quiet, but never disconnected.
Lucas looked up from the kitchen, and the second he saw Claire, the world slowed.
He froze—completely still—like he wasn't sure she was real.
He stared at her, blinking once. Twice.
She looked the same—maybe a little more tired around the edges, a little more grounded in the eyes—but still Claire.
Claire stepped forward, backpack still slung over her shoulder. "Hey."
Lucas's eyes widened, his voice low and stunned. "You're back."
"I'm back." She said. "Surprise?"
Emma and Max disappeared into the other room like professionals trained in dramatic exits.
Lucas crossed the room in two slow steps. "How long?"
"A few days. Maybe more. I'm figuring it out."
"Are you—" He paused. "Are you staying?"
Claire smiled, small and real. "I think I am. But I don't know what that means for us yet."
A silence settled between them—thick with emotion, but not awkward.
Lucas nodded, reaching out gently, not to grab her, but to rest a hand just over hers. "We'll figure it out."
And this time, when their hands touched, neither pulled away.
He just looked at her face, her eyes, her mouth that was inviting and trying not to smile too wide.
"I didn't realize how much I missed you until you walked through that door," he said.
Claire swallowed. "I didn't realize I'd want to come here first. But I did. I guess I never stopped thinking about this."
Then, gently, he pulled her into a hug.
It wasn't dramatic or cinematic. It was slow and certain. Her arms slid around his waist, his chin rested against her temple, and for a long moment, neither of them said a word.
They didn't need to.