Bella had never liked airports.
They were full of endings disguised as beginnings—people rushing toward gates, clutching tickets like promises they weren't sure they could keep. Standing at the small regional terminal with her overnight bag slung over her shoulder, Bella felt that familiar unease settle into her chest.
This trip was necessary.
That didn't make it easy.
Ethan stood beside her, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, posture calm but eyes betraying more than he was willing to say. Lily stood in front of them, hugging Bella tightly, her cheek pressed into Bella's coat as if she could physically anchor her there.
"You'll call tonight?" Lily asked, voice muffled.
"Yes," Bella said gently. "And tomorrow morning. And whenever you want."
Lily nodded but didn't let go.
Ethan crouched beside them. "Peanut, Bella's just going for a little while."
"I know," Lily said. "I just don't like it."
Bella pulled back just enough to look at her. "I don't like it either."
That seemed to help. Lily smiled faintly and finally released her grip.
The announcement for boarding echoed through the terminal.
Bella turned to Ethan.
"I don't want this to feel like I'm choosing work over us," she said quietly.
Ethan met her gaze steadily. "It doesn't."
"But—"
"It feels like you trusting us enough to leave and come back," he said.
Her eyes stung. "That's exactly what it is."
He leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to her forehead—nothing dramatic, nothing rushed. Just reassurance.
"Go," he said softly. "We'll be here."
Bella nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat, and walked toward security without looking back.
Because if she did, she wasn't sure she'd keep moving.
⸻
The hotel room was too quiet.
Bella dropped her bag by the door and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the unfamiliar walls. The city skyline outside the window glittered—beautiful, impressive, and utterly uninviting.
She checked her phone.
No messages yet.
She knew Ethan wouldn't text until Lily was settled for the night. He wouldn't want to make Bella worry if Lily was emotional.
Bella smiled softly.
That consideration alone told her everything she needed to know.
Her phone buzzed a few minutes later.
Ethan: She asked if you were looking at the same moon.
Bella laughed quietly and typed back.
Bella: Tell her yes. And that it misses her too.
A moment passed.
Ethan: She smiled.
Bella lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, letting the ache in her chest soften into something manageable.
This wasn't loss.
It was space.
⸻
Back in Silver Pine, Ethan felt the absence immediately.
Not in a dramatic way—but in the subtle disruptions of routine. Bella's mug sat unused by the sink. Her scarf still hung by the door. The chair beside Lily at the table was empty.
Lily noticed too.
She moved through the evening more quietly, asking fewer questions, watching Ethan closely as if checking to see whether he was okay.
After dinner, she curled up on the couch with a book but didn't read.
"Daddy?" she asked.
"Yes, peanut?"
"Do you miss Bella?"
Ethan hesitated only a second. "Yes."
Lily nodded, satisfied. "Me too."
Ethan pulled her closer. "She'll be back soon."
"I know," Lily said. "She always comes back."
The certainty in her voice surprised him.
It shouldn't have—but it did.
⸻
Bella's meetings went well.
Better than well.
Her ideas landed. Her leadership was respected. The role fit her in a way that felt natural, not forced. For the first time in a long time, Bella felt professionally aligned—confident without being hardened.
Yet every break, every pause, her thoughts drifted north.
To snow.
To quiet.
To a cabin that had become more than a place.
That night, she called them.
Lily answered immediately.
"Bella!" she squealed. "I got a gold star today!"
"That's amazing," Bella said. "Tell me everything."
Ethan listened from the background as Bella praised Lily, asked questions, laughed in all the right places. He felt something shift inside him—something solidifying.
This wasn't fragile.
It was resilient.
When Lily finally handed the phone back to Ethan, he stepped into the hallway for privacy.
"You sound good," he said.
"I feel good," Bella replied. "But I miss you."
Ethan leaned against the wall. "I miss you too."
There was a pause.
"I didn't realize how much space you fill," he admitted.
Bella smiled softly. "That scares you?"
"Yes," he said honestly. "But it also feels… right."
She closed her eyes. "I wish I could fast-forward this part."
He chuckled quietly. "Me too."
⸻
The second day was harder.
Bella woke up disoriented, reaching for warmth that wasn't there. She missed the way mornings unfolded naturally in the cabin—the shared silence, the small check-ins, Lily's chatter.
That afternoon, she received a message from Lily that made her heart twist.
Lily: Daddy burned the pancakes.
Bella laughed and replied with a series of dramatic emojis and encouragement.
But beneath the humor, she felt the weight of being away.
Back in Silver Pine, Ethan burned the pancakes on purpose the next morning.
Not because he couldn't cook—but because Lily laughed so hard she snorted.
Sometimes, making space for joy mattered more than perfection.
⸻
The real test came on Bella's last night away.
Her team invited her out for dinner to celebrate the successful meetings. Bella went—she needed to maintain those connections—but she found herself distracted, checking her phone too often, her smile polite but distant.
When she finally excused herself and returned to the hotel, her phone rang almost immediately.
It was Ethan.
"Hey," he said, voice tense.
Bella sat up. "What's wrong?"
"Lily had a nightmare," he said. "She's okay now. But she asked for you."
Bella's chest tightened painfully. "Can I talk to her?"
"Yes," he said. "She's waiting."
Lily's small face filled the screen, eyes still glassy.
"Hey, snow angel," Bella said softly.
"Are you mad at me?" Lily asked.
Bella's heart broke. "Why would I be mad at you?"
"Because you went away," Lily said. "I thought maybe you didn't want to stay."
Bella leaned closer to the screen. "Listen to me very carefully. I went away so I could come back stronger. Not because I wanted to leave."
Lily sniffed. "Promise?"
Bella didn't hesitate. "I promise."
Lily relaxed visibly. "Okay."
After Lily fell asleep again, Bella stayed on the call with Ethan.
"I hate that I wasn't there," Bella whispered.
"You were," Ethan said. "You showed up anyway."
She swallowed. "I don't want Lily to feel abandoned again."
Ethan's voice softened. "She doesn't. She feels missed. And loved."
Bella let out a shaky breath. "Thank you for holding things together."
Ethan shook his head. "This isn't me holding things together alone anymore."
⸻
Bella returned two days later.
Snow fell lightly as the bus pulled up, the mountains welcoming her back like old friends. Lily spotted her first and ran forward, nearly knocking Bella over with the force of her hug.
"You came back!" Lily said triumphantly.
Bella laughed into her hair. "I told you I would."
Ethan stood a few steps behind, relief plain on his face.
When Lily finally released her, Bella turned to Ethan.
He didn't say anything.
He just pulled her into his arms and held her there—longer than necessary, tighter than before.
"I don't like being without you," he said quietly.
Bella rested her head against his chest. "Neither do I."
That night, as they sat together after Lily went to bed, Ethan spoke words he hadn't planned.
"I thought love was something that demanded proximity," he said. "But this… this survived distance."
Bella smiled. "That's how I knew too."
He took her hand. "I'm not afraid of the future anymore."
She squeezed his fingers. "Neither am I."
Outside, snow continued to fall softly.
Inside, the space between them no longer felt like absence.
It felt like proof.