Chapter 10: Learning the Distance
1263 Words
The first morning without Alex in the city felt unfamiliar.
Joy woke up to silence.
Not the peaceful kind she once enjoyed, but a quiet that felt too wide, too empty—like something important had been taken out of her world. She lay in bed for a few extra minutes, staring at the ceiling, as if hoping the feeling would pass.
It didn’t.
Her phone rested beside her pillow.
She reached for it instinctively.
No new messages.
Joy exhaled slowly and sat up.
“This is normal,” she whispered to herself. “He just arrived yesterday.”
Still, the absence of his presence lingered.
By midday, Joy tried to distract herself with work.
She sat at her desk, sketchbook open, pencil in hand—but the ideas didn’t flow like they used to. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Alex.
What was he doing?
Was he settling in well?
Did he miss her as much as she missed him?
Her phone buzzed suddenly.
Her heart jumped.
Alex (Video Call)
Joy smiled immediately and answered.
His face appeared on the screen, slightly tired but brightening the moment he saw her.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” she replied, her voice softer than she expected.
“How are you?” he asked.
Joy shrugged lightly.
“I’m okay.”
Alex studied her expression.
“You don’t sound okay.”
Joy hesitated, then sighed.
“It’s just… quiet here.”
Alex nodded slowly.
“Yeah. It feels strange here too.”
Joy’s eyes softened.
“Really?”
“Of course,” he said. “I keep thinking I’ll turn around and you’ll be there.”
Joy smiled faintly.
“I wish.”
They both fell silent for a moment, simply looking at each other through the screen.
“So,” Alex said, trying to lighten the mood, “I found a café near my apartment.”
Joy raised an eyebrow.
“Already replacing our spot?”
“Never,” he said quickly, laughing. “But I think you’d like this one.”
Joy leaned forward slightly.
“Tell me about it.”
As Alex described the café—the warm lighting, the smell of fresh pastries, the quiet music—Joy found herself smiling again.
It felt like they were sharing a moment, even from miles apart.
“Next time you visit,” he added, “I’ll take you there.”
Joy’s heart skipped.
Next time.
“I’d like that,” she said softly.
Days turned into a routine.
Morning texts.
Afternoon check-ins.
Evening video calls.
At first, it felt manageable.
Even comforting.
They shared their days, their thoughts, their small victories.
But slowly, the cracks began to show.
One evening, Joy sat on her couch, staring at her phone.
It was past 9 PM.
No message from Alex.
She frowned slightly.
He usually texted by now.
He’s probably busy, she told herself.
But as the minutes passed, her thoughts began to shift.
What if he’s forgetting?
What if he’s getting used to life without me?
She shook her head.
“No. Don’t do this.”
Just then, her phone buzzed.
Alex:
Hey, I’m so sorry. Today was crazy.
Joy stared at the message.
Relief mixed with something else.
Disappointment.
She typed back.
Joy:
It’s okay.
A few seconds later:
Alex:
Can we talk tomorrow? I’m exhausted.
Joy paused.
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
Part of her wanted to say yes immediately.
Another part… felt hurt.
Joy:
Alright. Rest well.
She put her phone down and leaned back.
The room felt quiet again.
But this time, the silence carried a different weight.
The next day, they spoke on a video call.
Alex looked tired.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi.”
“I’m really sorry about yesterday.”
“It’s fine,” Joy replied.
But her tone wasn’t as warm as usual.
Alex noticed.
“Is everything okay?”
Joy hesitated.
Then she took a deep breath.
“I guess I just missed you.”
Alex’s expression softened.
“I missed you too.”
“It’s just… harder than I expected,” she admitted.
Alex nodded.
“Me too.”
There was a pause.
Then Joy spoke again.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m not part of your daily life anymore.”
Alex frowned.
“That’s not true.”
“It feels that way,” she said quietly.
Alex leaned closer to the screen.
“Joy, I’m just adjusting. New job, new environment—it’s a lot.”
“I understand,” she said.
“Do you?”
Joy looked down.
“I’m trying to.”
Alex sighed.
“I don’t want you to feel like you’re not important to me.”
“I don’t want to feel that way either,” she replied.
The honesty in her voice hung in the air.
For a moment, neither of them knew what to say.
Later that week, Joy met Sarah at the café.
She looked tired.
“You’re thinking again,” Sarah said, sipping her drink.
Joy sighed.
“It’s harder than I thought.”
“The distance?”
“Yes.”
Sarah nodded.
“That’s normal.”
“But what if it changes everything?” Joy asked.
Sarah leaned forward.
“Everything changes, Joy. That doesn’t always mean it gets worse.”
Joy looked unconvinced.
“I just… I don’t want to lose him.”
“Then don’t,” Sarah said simply.
Joy blinked.
“It’s not that easy.”
“Maybe not,” Sarah admitted. “But love isn’t about convenience. It’s about effort.”
Joy thought about that.
Effort.
Was she doing enough?
Was Alex?
That night, Joy sat by her window again, sketchbook in hand.
This time, her drawing was different.
Instead of bright colors and flowing designs, she found herself sketching two figures standing apart, connected by a thin line.
Fragile.
But still connected.
Her phone buzzed.
Alex (Video Call)
She answered.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi.”
They both smiled softly.
“I’ve been thinking,” Alex said.
“About what?”
“Us.”
Joy’s heart tightened.
“And?” she asked carefully.
“I think we need to do this better.”
Joy tilted her head.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… not just reacting to the distance. But actually building something despite it.”
Joy listened closely.
“Like how?” she asked.
Alex thought for a moment.
“Scheduled calls. Planned visits. Making time for each other intentionally.”
Joy nodded slowly.
“That makes sense.”
“And more honesty,” he added.
Joy smiled slightly.
“You mean like yesterday?”
Alex chuckled.
“Exactly like yesterday.”
Joy felt something shift inside her.
Maybe this wasn’t falling apart.
Maybe it was just… changing.
“I can do that,” she said.
“Me too,” Alex replied.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment.
Then Joy spoke softly.
“I don’t want fear to ruin this.”
Alex nodded.
“It won’t. Not if we face it together.”
Joy smiled.
For the first time in days, she felt a sense of calm.
As the call ended, Joy looked at her sketch again.
The two figures were still apart.
But the line between them felt stronger now.
Not fragile.
Intentional.
She picked up her pencil and began to redraw it.
This time, with more confidence.
Because maybe love didn’t have to be perfect to survive.
Maybe it just needed effort.
Trust.
And two people willing to keep choosing each other…
even from a distance.
- Writer
