As Allie watched Curtis's back fade into the crowd, she took a few unconscious steps forward, her body aching to chase after him.Whenever he left, he took a piece of her with him—something vital she could never quite get back until he returned.
Her heart knew exactly what it wanted, but her mind kept reminding her of the promises she'd made—to herself, to her team, to her future. She needed to finish what she started. She needed to earn her way back to him.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clutched the sweater he'd left behind. His scent lingered faintly—clean, warm, a mix of soap and his cologne. She buried her face in it, inhaling deeply. The moment he was gone, the silence grew deafening.This was why she never asked him to visit too often; the goodbyes were unbearable. Each time he left, it felt harder to breathe.
Still, she had made a commitment—a company that believed in her, trusted her skills, and gave her a chance to prove herself. She owed them her best. That's why she pushed herself so hard, skipping vacations and ignoring sick days, working until she could barely stand. She wanted to finish everything quickly, leave a mark, and finally—finally—be free to go back to him.
But loneliness crept in anyway.
Every night before their video calls, Allie made sure she was ready an hour early. She'd check her reflection repeatedly—fixing her hair, touching up her lips, practicing a smile—wanting him to see her and think, Why would I ever look at anyone else? Sometimes, though, she'd wait too long. Her eyes would grow heavy, and she'd fall asleep before his call came through. Those nights, she'd wake up to missed calls and guilt so sharp it made her cry.
It felt unfair sometimes—how easy he made everything seem. He was steady, calm, patient… so effortlessly in control. And she envied that about him. She didn't want to pretend to have it all together anymore. She just wanted to be with him—to rest in his arms and stop pretending the distance didn't hurt.
Her phone buzzed as soon as she got home—a video call from her mom.
"Hi, love! How are you feeling? Better now?"
"Yes, Mom," she said softly, forcing a smile. "Thank you for checking up on me."
Her mom's face lit up with relief. "You look so much better. Did Kit leave already?"
Allie nodded.
"Baby, I'm so thankful he came when he did," her mom said, her tone trembling. "I don't even want to imagine what could've happened if he wasn't there."
Allie's throat tightened. She knew what her mom meant. When she'd gotten sick, Curtis had called her mother immediately—asking for her soup recipe, taking notes on every little thing that could make Allie feel better. He'd updated her every few hours, following her instructions like gospel.
"Honey, please take care of yourself," her mom scolded gently. "There's another person now who'd be devastated if something happened to you."
"I know, Mom," Allie said, smiling faintly.
"I just wanted to finish everything fast so I can go home—to you guys, and to him."
"If you're going to apologize," her mom said knowingly, "say it to Kit. You scared him, Allie. He didn't know what to do. It's okay to work hard—but not at the cost of your health. Take your time, baby. The world—and Kit—can wait a little."
After they hung up, Allie sat in silence, tears brimming again. How did she get so lucky with him?
She stood and glanced around the apartment, suddenly realizing how much he'd done while he was here. The kitchen counter was spotless. Her medicines were lined up neatly beside a note in his clean handwriting:
Take meds on time. Finish all, then discard.
Her chest tightened. She opened the fridge—everything was labeled.
Leftover soup: good for 3–4 days.
Gatorade—drink if feeling dizzy.
Toast some bread if you're not too hungry.
She pressed a hand to her mouth as tears spilled freely.
"How did I almost lose him?" she whispered to herself. "He's… everything."
He once told her he didn't know how to be lovable, but here he was—proof that he already was, in every quiet, thoughtful act.
That night, she tried to stay awake until he texted that he was home safely. But exhaustion won, and she fell asleep clutching her phone. Sometime in the early morning, a soft chime woke her.
Curtis: Babe, home now. Didn't want to wake you. Talk to you later. I love you.
Her heart clenched as she read it. She pressed the phone to her chest and cried—tears of love, longing, and the desperate ache to be near him.
She knew what she had to do. Just a little longer. Just a little more patience. And she'd finally be done.
Days passed. Their routine continued—text messages throughout the day, video calls at night, each one a tether across the miles. He stayed steady, trusting the process; she stayed strong, pretending she wasn't falling apart. Neither wanted to burden the other with their loneliness. But even apart, they somehow moved in rhythm—different, yet flowing as one.
One afternoon, she caught up with Clarisse on a call.
"Girl, are you finally alive?" Clarisse teased. "You scared me half to death! Your man? He's such a drama king. I swear, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were dying the way he called me!"
Allie burst into laughter.
Clarisse had been her lifeline since moving to Japan—the only one who knew every detail of her and Curtis's story. When Allie told her they'd reconciled, Clarisse had been skeptical, protective, and only accepted Curtis after Allie begged.
"Nothing funny, Allie," Clarisse continued, her voice softening. "Tell your man to chill. And you—stop overworking yourself. There's only one of you, okay? Don't make us all worry."
Allie grinned, hearing the slight tremor beneath her friend's sarcasm. "Are you crying?" she teased.
"NO! Get over yourself," Clarisse snapped playfully. "I just need you healthy, babe. We still have so many stupid things to do together."
"I will," Allie promised. "And guess what? It's not long now. I'll be back really soon."
Clarisse shrieked so loudly Allie had to pull the phone away from her ear. They laughed until their cheeks hurt, then spent hours planning how Allie would surprise everyone when she returned.
Each day after that, Allie started letting go—donating things she no longer needed, organizing what she'd take home. She slowed down her pace, savoring every moment left in this chapter of her life.
The days moved differently now—not rushed or heavy, but full of purpose.And before she knew it, the map of her journey had led her right where she belonged.
Home.