Chapter 28-The Distance Between Us
1397 Words
The airport was loud and endless, the kind of place that swallowed sound and emotion all at once. Maeve stood by the glass window, her reflection flickering against the movement of planes and people. Her bag hung loosely from her shoulder, heavy not with clothes but with everything she could not say.
Otis stood beside her, hands in his pockets, trying to keep his face calm. His heart, however, was racing with every passing second. He wanted to be strong for her, but every part of him wanted to reach out and stop time.
Eric and Aimee were a few steps away, giving them space but staying close enough to feel present. Aimee’s eyes were already red, and Eric kept bouncing his foot nervously, muttering something about goodbyes being the worst kind of torture.
Maeve looked up at Otis, her eyes steady but soft. You are not going to cry, are you?
He smiled faintly. Maybe a little. Depends on how dramatic you make this.
She laughed quietly, the sound breaking the tension between them for a moment. Then she reached out and touched his cheek, her fingers light but certain. Promise me you will not just shut down, she said. Promise you will still talk to people. Do your thing. Live your life.
He nodded. I will.
And you?
I will write, she said. And I will call.
Otis took a deep breath. Then this is not goodbye.
No, she said, it is just a pause.
Aimee sniffled loudly behind them. I hate this. It is like the end of a movie I did not want to finish.
Maeve smiled at her. I will miss you too, Aims.
Eric came closer and hugged Maeve tight. Make sure you become a big deal over there. I want to be able to tell people I knew you before you got famous.
Maeve laughed, hugging him back. You already tell people that.
Yeah, but now it will be true.
The announcement came over the speakers. Maeve’s flight was boarding.
The sound seemed to stretch through the air, sharp and final. Maeve turned to Otis one last time.
I guess this is it, she said softly.
He nodded. Go be brilliant.
She smiled, and for a moment her eyes shimmered with tears she refused to let fall. Then she kissed him—slow, deep, and real. It was not a goodbye kiss. It was a promise sealed between heartbeats.
When she walked away, Otis stood there long after she disappeared into the crowd. Eric placed a hand on his shoulder. You alright, man?
No, Otis said honestly. But I will be.
Life after Maeve’s departure moved slower, like the days were heavy and stretched. School felt different, quieter. Eric had left for London, Aimee had started an art internship, and Otis spent more time at home, helping Jean with her new project.
Jean was back to writing again—this time about teenage love, distance, and communication. Every now and then she asked Otis questions that felt a little too personal.
How do you think young people handle separation in relationships? she asked one afternoon.
Badly, he said.
She smiled. And you?
I am learning, he replied.
Jean watched him closely. You miss her.
All the time.
That is good, Jean said softly. Missing someone means you are still connected.
Otis looked down at his notes. It just hurts sometimes.
Jean smiled sadly. Love tends to do that.
That evening, Otis sat in his room, staring at the string of postcards Maeve had sent already. Each one had something different written in her messy handwriting.
“The city smells like coffee and rain.”
“I found a bookstore that feels like you.”
“I miss the sound of your laugh when you pretend to be fine.”
He ran his fingers over the words, smiling faintly. She was out there, doing what she was meant to do, and somehow that made him proud even through the ache.
Weeks passed.
Otis started spending time at the youth center again, helping students with their emotional health program. It felt good to be useful. One day, Ruby showed up unexpectedly, hair gleaming, eyes sharp as ever.
Well, look who is turning into a mini therapist, she said.
Otis laughed. Ruby, what are you doing here?
Volunteering, obviously. Do not sound so shocked.
He grinned. No, I am just surprised.
Ruby crossed her arms. People change, Otis.
Yeah, they do, he said, smiling at her.
They worked side by side all afternoon. It was strange, being around her again, but in a good way. She was less guarded now, more grounded. At one point, she turned to him and said quietly, You really loved her, huh?
He paused. Yeah. I still do.
Ruby nodded. Good. That is rare.
When they finished for the day, Ruby waved and said, Try not to drown in nostalgia. It is not a good look.
Otis laughed. Thanks, Ruby.
Meanwhile, Maeve’s life abroad was fast and dizzying. The program was demanding, the professors intimidating, and the city relentless. But she loved it—the challenge, the rush, the feeling of finally being somewhere that saw her potential.
At night, though, when the lights dimmed and the city noise softened, she missed him. She would sit by the window of her small apartment, the skyline stretching endlessly, and think of home—the scent of wet grass, Jean’s calm voice, Eric’s laugh, and Otis’s quiet eyes.
She sent him a message one night:
“Sometimes I feel like I am chasing my future so hard I forget I already found my heart.”
Otis read it over and over, smiling to himself before replying:
“Then do not forget. Hearts are good at waiting.”
Months passed.
When Eric came home for the holidays, he brought stories, pictures, and chaos. The house was alive again, filled with laughter and late-night confessions.
Jean hosted a dinner, and everyone came—Aimee, Ruby, Adam, even Jackson. It was messy, loud, full of warmth. For a while, Otis forgot about the distance between him and Maeve.
Later that night, after everyone left, Eric found Otis sitting outside on the porch, staring at the stars.
You still think about her, huh?
Every day, Otis said quietly.
Eric nodded. She will come back. People like Maeve always find their way home.
I know, Otis said. But I do not want her to come back because she feels she has to. I want her to come back because she wants to.
Eric smiled. That is real love, man. Messy, patient, and honest.
They sat there in silence, the cold air wrapping around them.
When the spring term began, Otis started his own small counseling group at school, something informal but growing quickly. Students trusted him, listened to him. It felt like he was finally stepping into something of his own.
Then, one rainy afternoon, he got an email.
Subject: Coming Home.
From: Maeve.
Message: “I will be back in a week. I need to see you.”
Otis stared at the screen, his heart pounding. He read it again and again, hardly believing it.
When Eric heard, he nearly screamed. Dude. She is coming back!
Otis smiled, but it was the quiet kind of smile—the one that came from disbelief and hope crashing together.
The week passed slowly. Every sound, every place seemed to whisper her name.
The day she was due to arrive, Otis stood again at that same airport window, watching the crowd spill out of arrivals. His pulse was loud in his ears.
And then she was there—hair longer, face older somehow, but her eyes exactly the same. She looked around, searching, until she found him.
When their eyes met, the world seemed to stop.
She dropped her bag and ran to him.
He caught her, holding her tight. The noise around them faded into nothing.
I missed you, she whispered.
He smiled, tears burning behind his eyes. I know.
She pulled back just enough to look at him. You grew up a little.
He laughed. You too.
They stood there, holding each other, as the light through the glass poured over them—warm and gold.
Whatever came next, they would face it together.
And for the first time, the distance between them was gone.
- Writer
