CHAPTER 16: THE ALMOST
1289 Words
The first time Liam mentioned coming home, Mika didn’t react.
Not because she didn’t care.
But because she was afraid to hope.
They were on a call, late at night, both half-asleep. Liam was talking about school deadlines and an upcoming break.
“I might be able to visit,” he said casually, like it was just another update. “Not sure yet. Maybe next month.”
Mika blinked.
“Maybe?”
“Yeah. Depends on my schedule. And flights. And if my parents agree.”
Oh.
So it wasn’t certain.
She swallowed the small spark inside her chest before it could grow too big.
“That’s nice,” she replied carefully. “If it works out.”
He noticed the tone immediately.
“You don’t sound excited.”
“I am,” she said quickly. “I just don’t want to assume.”
There it was again. That carefulness she had developed over the months. The quiet habit of protecting herself from disappointment.
Liam was quiet for a moment.
“I want to see you,” he said softly.
Her heart betrayed her this time. It reacted instantly, painfully.
“I want to see you too.”
The idea followed her everywhere after that. During lectures. While brushing her teeth. While lying in bed at night. She imagined seeing him at the airport. Wondered if she would cry. Wondered if it would feel awkward. Wondered if they would still fit the same way in person as they did through screens.
Distance had changed them. Grown them. Strengthened them.
But would it also make things strange?
The days passed slowly.
Liam updated her about checking flights. Nothing final. Just possibilities.
Mika tried not to count.
She failed.
Every conversation turned into subtle anticipation. They talked about what they would do if he came. Favorite café. The park near her house. Walking the streets they used to wander without thinking.
It felt almost dangerous to imagine.
Then one afternoon, during dismissal, her phone buzzed.
Liam: I booked it.
She stopped walking.
Booked what?
Her hands trembled slightly as she opened the message fully.
Liam: I’m coming home next month. It’s confirmed.
The world felt suddenly louder and quieter at the same time.
She reread the message three times before replying.
Mika: You’re serious?
Liam: Dead serious.
She laughed out loud, ignoring the curious looks from classmates.
He was coming home.
For real.
The weeks leading up to the visit were different.
Exciting.
Terrifying.
Mika found herself overthinking everything. What to wear. What to say. Whether she should hug him first or wait. Whether she had changed too much.
They were no longer just best friends.
They were no longer just voices in each other’s headphones.
They were something deeper now. Tested. Stretched. Real.
The night before his flight, Mika barely slept.
She stared at the ceiling, heart restless.
What if it felt different?
What if they didn’t click the same way?
What if distance had created a version of them that only worked through screens?
Morning came too fast.
She stood at the arrival area, hands cold despite the warm air. Families waited around her, holding balloons and signs. The sound of rolling luggage and announcements filled the space.
Her chest pounded so hard she could hear it.
Then she saw him.
Not through a screen.
Not pixelated.
Real.
Liam walked through the doors, scanning the crowd. When his eyes found hers, everything else blurred.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Then he smiled.
And Mika ran.
She didn’t think about who hugged first. She didn’t think about how she looked.
She just wrapped her arms around him.
He felt solid.
Warm.
Familiar.
“I missed you,” he whispered into her hair.
“I know,” she replied, voice shaking.
Being physically close again was overwhelming in the simplest ways. Walking side by side. Sharing food. Hearing his laugh without delay. Watching his expressions change in real time.
They went to their old café first.
It felt smaller than she remembered.
Or maybe they had just grown.
They talked about everything and nothing. School. Friends. Random observations.
But beneath it all was awareness.
They kept looking at each other like they were making sure the other was still real.
Later that afternoon, they walked through the park near her house. The same benches. The same trees.
“So,” Liam said quietly, hands in his pockets. “Was it weird?”
“What?”
“Seeing me again.”
She thought about it.
“No,” she answered honestly. “It felt… right.”
He exhaled softly, almost relieved.
“I was scared,” he admitted. “That we built something online that wouldn’t translate in person.”
“We didn’t,” she said.
But she understood the fear.
Distance had shaped them. Forced communication. Forced maturity.
Now they had to see if it worked without the barrier.
That evening, as the sky turned orange, they sat on a bench facing the sunset.
No phones.
No screens.
Just quiet.
“This is what I miss the most,” Liam said.
“What?”
“Being able to sit next to you without scheduling it.”
She smiled faintly.
“I didn’t realize how much I missed the simple things.”
He looked at her then, serious.
“Does it still feel worth it?”
The question was gentle but heavy.
She knew what he meant.
The distance. The arguments. The insecurity. The effort.
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “It’s hard. But it’s worth it.”
He nodded slowly.
“Good. Because I don’t want this to be temporary.”
Her breath caught slightly.
Temporary.
The word had been floating in her mind for months, unspoken.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean… I don’t want us to survive distance just to drift apart later. I want something real. Long-term.”
Long-term.
The future had always been a blurry concept between them. College. Careers. Cities.
Now it stood in front of them.
Terrifying and hopeful at the same time.
“I don’t know what the future looks like,” Mika admitted. “But I know I don’t want to lose you.”
He reached for her hand.
It was simple.
But grounding.
“Then we keep choosing each other,” he said. “Even when it’s inconvenient.”
She squeezed his hand lightly.
“I can do that.”
The visit wasn’t perfect.
There were moments of adjustment. Small awkward pauses. Realizing they had grown in different ways.
But none of it felt wrong.
It felt like learning each other again.
And that was okay.
On his last night before flying back, they stood outside her house.
The goodbye felt heavier than the hello.
“I hate this part,” Mika whispered.
“Me too.”
He looked at her carefully.
“But it doesn’t break us anymore.”
She realized he was right.
The first goodbye had felt like an ending.
This one felt like a pause.
Temporary.
Manageable.
He hugged her tightly.
“Next time won’t take this long,” he promised.
She didn’t ask how.
She didn’t need details.
She just nodded.
“Okay.”
As she watched him leave the next morning at the airport, she didn’t feel shattered.
She felt steady.
The distance was still there.
But now it had proof.
Proof that what they had wasn’t just digital.
It existed in real spaces.
Real touches.
Real conversations.
That night, after his flight landed safely, he sent her a message.
Already miss you.
She smiled softly and replied.
Miss you too. But we’ll be okay.
And for once, it didn’t feel like reassurance.
It felt like truth.
- Writer
