***GH0STED""

Episode 1: GHOSTED

CHAPTER 3: TWO WEEKS OF PERFECTION

The next two weeks passed in a blur of sun-drenched days and star-filled nights. Jeremy took time off from the coffee shop, and Cynthia spent less time with her sister (though Maya assured them both she didn’t mind—“I’ve been waiting years for you to find someone who makes you this happy,” she’d told Cynthia the first time she’d seen them together).

They filled their days with small adventures and quiet moments alike. They woke up early to watch the sunrise from Jackson Street Bridge, where the sky turned pink and gold over the Atlanta skyline. They spent an entire afternoon at the Atlanta Botanical Garden, where Cynthia took dozens of photos of the orchids while Jeremy tried (and failed) to identify every plant they passed. They went to a Braves game, where Cynthia learned how to keep score and Jeremy taught her the words to “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” They cooked dinner together at Maya’s apartment—Jeremy making his famous spaghetti (with a mushroom-free portion just for Cynthia) while she baked a chocolate cake that was so rich it made their teeth ache in the best way possible.

One afternoon, they drove out to Stone Mountain, hiking to the top even though Cynthia complained the entire way up that her legs were going to fall off. When they reached the summit and looked out over the rolling Georgia countryside, she fell silent, her eyes wide with wonder.

“It’s nothing like the mountains in Russia,” she said, leaning against Jeremy as they stood at the edge of the overlook. “The Urals are darker, more rugged. More… wild, I guess. But this is beautiful in its own way. Soft. Warm.”

“Kind of like us,” Jeremy said, and Cynthia laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

That night, they spread a blanket on the roof of Maya’s building, watching for shooting stars and sharing stories from their childhoods. Cynthia told him about growing up in a small apartment in Moscow, how her parents had saved every penny to send her to art school in St. Petersburg, how she’d been terrified when she’d moved there alone at eighteen. Jeremy told her about his dad leaving when he was twelve, how his mom had worked two jobs to keep their family afloat, how he’d learned to be independent at a young age but had always craved the kind of love and stability he saw in his friends’ families.

“I never thought I’d find someone who understands me the way you do,” Cynthia said, tracing patterns on his chest with her finger. “My ex-boyfriend… he never got why I loved my job so much, why I was willing to move across the world for it. He thought it meant I didn’t care about us, about him.”

“And you do care,” Jeremy said. “That’s why you’re willing to try to make this work with me, even though it’s hard.”

“I do,” she said firmly. “More than you know. Jeremy, when I go back to Russia, I want you to come visit me. I want to show you my city, my apartment, introduce you to my friends. I want you to see where I come from, where I live when I’m not here with you.”

“I’d love that,” Jeremy said, though a part of him felt a flutter of anxiety at the thought of traveling to a country he’d never been to, where he didn’t speak the language. But looking at her face, at the hope in her eyes, he knew it was worth it. “When can I come?”

“Maybe in a month? Once I’m settled back in, get caught up at work. I can plan everything—book your flight, find a place for you to stay, even teach you some Russian phrases so you don’t get completely lost.”

“Just promise you’ll teach me how to say ‘I love you’ first,” he said, and she smiled, sitting up to look at him.

“Ya lyublyu tebya,” she said slowly, enunciating each word carefully. “Ya—lyu—blyu—te—bya.”

“Ya lyublyu tebya,” Jeremy repeated, and though his pronunciation was clumsy, Cynthia’s face lit up like Christmas morning.

“Perfect,” she said, pulling him down for a kiss. “Now you can tell me you love me even when we’re thousands of miles apart.”

As the end of her trip drew near, they tried to pretend the inevitable wasn’t coming. They filled every moment with as much love and laughter as they could, as if they could store it up like sunshine to keep them warm during the months of distance ahead. On her last full day in Atlanta, they went back to The Daily Grind, where Jeremy introduced her to all his employees and regulars.

“This is the famous Cynthia,” he told Marcus as he poured her a cup of chamomile tea (her favorite). “The one who hates mushrooms and stole my heart with a text message.”

“Pleased to finally meet you,” Marcus said, shaking her hand. “Jeremy hasn’t shut up about you since that wrong number. I was starting to think you were imaginary.”

“I assure you, I’m very real,” Cynthia laughed. “And I promise I’m taking good care of your friend. Even if I do make him order mushroom-free meals whenever we go out.”

That evening, they went back to Piedmont Park, to the same bench where they’d shared their first kiss. They sat in comfortable silence for a long time, watching the sun set over the lake.

“I don’t want to leave,” Cynthia said quietly, her voice thick with tears she was trying to hold back.

“I don’t want you to go,” Jeremy said, pulling her close. “But we’ll be okay. We have each other. That’s all that matters.”

“I know,” she said, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I just hate goodbyes. They always feel so final.”

“Then this won’t be a goodbye,” Jeremy said firmly. “It’ll be a ‘see you soon.’ Because I’m coming to Russia, remember? I’m going to find you there, no matter what.”

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears and hope. “I’ll be waiting for you, Jeremy. Every single day.

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