Amara's POV:
Vihaan rested his forehead against mine for a moment, letting the quiet linger between us. "I wanted to see you," he murmured.
I took a shaky breath and stepped back slightly, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Then you'd better be hungry. I'll cook us dinner," I said, gesturing toward the kitchen.
He followed me with a grin, his head still resting on my shoulder as he walked behind me, holding me by both of his hands. "Watching you in your element… cooking, focused… It's mesmerizing," he teased softly.
I rolled my eyes but felt a warm flutter in my chest. "Flatterer," I muttered, pulling out ingredients.
The kitchen filled with the aroma of spices and sizzling pans, our conversation light and playful. Vihaan hovered near the counter, stealing small tastes here and there, making little comments that had me laughing while blushing. He admired the way I moved around the kitchen, the little flour smudges on my hands, the determined set of my jaw.
"Oh my god, what's that?" he said while drinking water deliberately.
"That's...That's black pepper powder. Why did you even taste it?" I asked in disbelief.
"I thought it was cocoa powder or something," he answered, relaxing a little bit after drinking water.
Finally, dinner was ready, and we sat at the small dining table in my apartment. Candlelight flickered softly, reflecting in his eyes as we shared the meal.
"I wish these moments lasted longer," he said softly, reaching across the table to hold my hand.
I nodded, feeding him the first bite. "Me too. But for now… let's just enjoy it."
Later, we talked, laughed, and fell asleep until the clock crept toward dawn. I woke up as Vihaan reluctantly got ready to leave in the early morning light. "I should go… traffic will be bad," he said, picking up his bag.
I stepped closer, fixing his tie. "Vihaan… I'm coming with you. I want to see you safely to the airport," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
He looked at me, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes. "Ama… it's too early, and—"
"I don't care. I just want to see you a little more. Please," I interrupted gently but firmly.
His lips curved into a small, defeated smile. "Alright… just a short trip to the airport, and then I promise I'll be back in your life as much as possible," he said, pulling me into a quick, tight hug before we headed out into the waking city.
The taxi hummed softly as we drove through the waking city. Morning light spilled across the streets, painting everything in gold, but none of it compared to the warmth I felt just being near him.
Vihaan reached over, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. "You look sleepy," he said softly, eyes scanning my face like he could memorize every detail in one glance.
"I didn't sleep much," I admitted, snuggling slightly against his shoulder. "But… being with you makes it easier."
He chuckled, a low, gentle sound that made my heart lift. "You always have a way of making the impossible feel calm," he murmured, his hand finding mine and holding it tightly.
At the airport, we walked toward the departure gates, the bustling crowd fading into the background as if the world itself respected our little bubble.
"I wish I could stay with you," I whispered, my fingers tightening around his.
"It's just a little overworked time, but I promise that as the situation gets even a bit stable, I will visit you for a few more days," he said, lifting my hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss there. "Two years is a long time, but it'll pass. See, you just crossed two weeks, so in the same way, two years will also pass in a blink."
I laughed softly through the lump in my throat. "You sound like a cheesy movie, Vihaan."
"I'm cheesy for you," he replied without hesitation, a teasing glint in his eyes. "And maybe… a little dramatic."
We lingered at the gate, unwilling to let go. I rested my head on his shoulder for a brief moment, breathing in the familiar scent of him. "Promise me… you'll take care of yourself, okay? Don't burn yourself out, eat properly, rest properly," I murmured.
"Always," he said, voice firm and tender. "And you… You have to shine in everything you do. Make me proud, Ama."
I smiled through tears, squeezing his hand one last time. "I'll try," I whispered.
Then the final call echoed through the gate. Vihaan cupped my face, pressing his lips softly against mine. "See you soon, my love," he said.
I watched him walk away, his figure disappearing into the crowd, until I was left with the hum of the airport. I don't know why, but this time I watched him from behind, and I wanted to cry hard, but my heart full of love, longing, and the unshakable certainty that this wasn't really goodbye—it was just the beginning of something stronger.
I came after dropping Vihaan off at the airport, and the apartment was in its hush, which is intimidating. Just a few hours ago, it felt lively with Vihaan here. I wanted to cry in this silence, but then I remembered that I had to go to the office. I got ready and skipped breakfast successfully because I ate the silence properly.
The office hummed with the usual Monday rush, but I carried a quiet heaviness.Emails, client calls, and design reviews stacked up until the ache of silence at home dulled into habit.In these three months, the stillness of my apartment stopped feeling intimidating and started feeling… familiar.I threw myself into projects, volunteered for extra pitches, and soon my manager trusted me to lead a small product launch.
Coworkers turned into friends. Lunch breaks became quick trips to the corner café for iced lattes and jokes about our overworked boss.Among them was Ethan—easygoing, sharp-witted, always ready with a well-timed quip.He'd stay late when I did, walk with me to the parking garage after dusk, and somehow always remembered how I like my coffee.
I came back, and one thing I liked most about the night was a call with Vihaan.
"You look tired," I said as soon as his face filled the screen. His eyes were shadowed, hair mussed, tie hanging loose.
"Just a merger case. Endless hearings, neither side willing to budge," he said, ruffling his hair with a sigh.
"Just missing you more than I can say," he added quietly.
"I miss you too. But promise me you'll be easy on yourself. Look at you—you're thinner than last time. Did you even have dinner? Are you still at the office?"The questions spilled out before I could stop them.
"Whoa, breathe, Ama," he said with that patient half-smile. "I'll take care of myself. And no, I'm not at the office—I'm home. Dinner…not yet."
"Then here's what we'll do," I said, already heading toward my kitchen. "Call the butler and set your plate. We'll eat together. Virtually counts."
His laugh was low and warm. "A long-distance dinner date. Only you would think of that."
If anybody asks how I am managing to live here, I would proudly mention these moments as my survival partners.
My morning started with the memes that Jia would send me, and my nights were filled with FaceTime with Vihaan. Most of the time, he looked tired; he had a lot of responsibilities to manage alone. I am happy his firm was expanding, hiring new lawyers, new prosecutors.
Vihaan's POV:
The conference room emptied, leaving only the faint scent of coffee and the dull glow of the city through the glass walls.I leaned back in the leather chair, rubbing my eyes.For the first time in months, the calendar looked…manageable.
Two senior associates had just passed the partnership track, and the merger case that had eaten every waking hour had finally settled.I'd spent the last year building this firm from a scrappy litigation outfit into a name that partners respect, and it was paying off—steady clients, a strong team, numbers that made investors smile.
But as the adrenaline faded, the silence of the office felt wrong.Not the comfortable late-night quiet I used to savor, but a restless echo that pointed in one direction.
Ama.
I scrolled through our message thread.Her updates—new projects, late coffee runs, the occasional photo of the skyline outside her apartment—were bright spots in my days, but a screen wasn't enough.
I opened the travel app before I could second-guess myself.A direct red-eye to her city.If I left after tonight's brief review with the tax counsel, I could land before dawn.
I shot off a quick email to my partners:"Taking a long weekend. Emergency calls only. Handle Friday docket as discussed."
The thought of seeing her—no video lag, no pixelated smiles—lifted a weight I didn't know I'd been carrying.I grabbed my coat and locked the office behind me.
Amara's POV:
Ethan and I stepped out of the office lobby, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the street. We were talking about the upcoming project deadlines, mockups, and client calls—a conversation where a non-tech person would get nothing in their head, until a flicker in my peripheral vision froze me mid-sentence.
A figure leaning casually against the opposite building, tall, broad-shouldered, familiar posture… my heart lurched.
"—and if we adjust the client feedback, we can meet the deadline with a day to spare—" Ethan's words continued, but my mind went blank.