The city felt emptier without him.
Mara stood in the sunlit studio of the new gallery, the walls lined with her paintings—each one a fragment of the months she'd spent rebuilding herself, of rain-soaked afternoons and stolen moments with Eli. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. And it was all hers.
She should have been celebrating, but instead, a hollow ache tugged at her chest. The small apartment she had left behind felt impossibly far away. Every day without Eli's presence was a reminder of what she could lose if she let herself fall too deeply.
Eli, meanwhile, tried to hold the city together without her. His photography work kept him busy, yet every shot he framed, every shadow he captured, reminded him of Mara—her smile, her hands, the way she laughed at his clumsy jokes.
He sent messages when he could. "Thinking of you.""Wish I was there.""Are you eating properly?" But no message could replace the warmth of her presence, the quiet comfort of simply being near her.
The night of the exhibit arrived. Mara's heart raced as the gallery filled with people. Critics, art lovers, even old friends who had traveled to see her work. Every compliment felt both exhilarating and empty without him by her side.
And then, near the end of the evening, the door opened, and the room seemed to tilt.
Eli.
She saw him standing there, slightly damp from the rain outside, hair falling over his forehead, eyes scanning until they found hers. In that moment, the gallery disappeared. The critics, the paintings, the chatter—they all vanished.
"Mara," he breathed, moving toward her.
She didn't run. She didn't turn away. She let him close the distance.
"I couldn't stay away," he admitted, voice low. "Even knowing how far apart we are, I realized that nothing matters if we aren't trying. I'll wait, Mara. I'll come whenever I can. But I'm not letting you go."
Her chest tightened, tears threatening. "Eli… it's not easy. We're in two different cities, two different lives—what if it doesn't work?"
He smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Then we'll figure it out, one day at a time. We've weathered storms before. This… this is just another one."
For the first time since she'd arrived, Mara allowed herself to breathe fully. She took his hand, feeling the warmth, the steady pulse of someone who had chosen her again and again.
And in that gallery, surrounded by her work and the reflection of countless rainy days, Mara realized something profound: love wasn't about perfect timing or ideal circumstances. It was about showing up. It was about trust. And it was about letting someone see your colors, even when the world felt gray.
Outside, the rain began again, light and insistent.But this time, Mara didn't flinch. She didn't hide. She stood with Eli, hand in hand, letting it fall around them, washing away fear, leaving only the quiet promise of something real.