Elara's POV
Later, I'm sprawled on my bed, phone in hand, texting Freya.
Elara: Freya… I don't know how I'm going to handle Claudio being gone for two months 😭
Freya: Two months? That's… forever!
Elara: I know! I keep thinking about the coffee walks, the studio, even just seeing him at school… and suddenly it feels like it's all going to stop.
Freya: Aw… sounds like someone's got a little crush 😏
Elara: Shut up. It's not that. 😳 Well… maybe it is a little.
Freya: Little? Elara, it's him. The quiet, broody, mysterious writer-guy who's also ridiculously cute. You're doomed.
Elara: …I just don't want to lose him, even for two months. I've never felt like this before.
Freya: Then don't. Two months isn't forever. But you should tell him how much he matters… somehow.
I stare at the phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard. I want to, but the words feel heavy, fragile—like saying them might make the distance real.
The café is quiet, the late afternoon sun spilling through the windows in golden streaks. I spot him immediately—Claudio, sleeves rolled up, sketchbook tucked under one arm, eyes scanning the street like he's already thinking about leaving.
I hesitate at the door.
"Hey," he says softly when he sees me.
"Hey," I reply, stepping in. My heart's already racing.
We grab a corner table, small, cozy, away from everyone else. The scent of coffee is comforting, but I can't focus on it. I'm too aware of him.
"So," I start, trying to sound casual, "you really are leaving for two months."
He shrugs, fidgeting slightly. "Yeah. I'll be at the university Dad went to… checking it out before classes start."
"You sound… heavy," I say.
"I am," he admits. "Excited, proud… but heavy too. Feels strange to think about being away."
I nod, swirling my cup. "I get it. I keep imagining… you walking around that big campus, and me here, missing you."He glances up, and for a moment, our eyes meet. Quiet. Intense.
"You'll survive," he says, voice low, teasing just enough to make me smile. "And so will I. Somehow."
I laugh softly, hiding the flutter in my chest. "Somehow, huh?"
He smirks, then reaches for his caramel latte—cold foam, hint of sea salt, black pepper—like he's showing off a secret. "Somehow," he repeats.
We talk about everything and nothing. Classes, sketches, the absurdity of his uni plans. I keep my words light, but inside, every second feels like a moment I want to freeze.
When the sun dips lower, painting the café in soft orange, he stands.
"I should head home," he says. "Early tomorrow, right?"
I nod, wishing I could make him stay a little longer.
"Thanks for… this," he says, giving me a small, almost-shy smile.
Me too," I whisper.
We walk out together, side by side, the city glowing around us. The quiet between us feels full, heavy, warm. Not goodbye—not yet. Just… now.
And for a little while, that's enough.
Departure Day — Claudio's POV
The airport is crowded, but I barely notice.
All I can think about is the next two months. Two months away from home. Two months away from Elara.
I clutch my bag tighter, running a hand through my hair. Dad's voice echoes in my head—be responsible, make him proud.
I glance up and spot her instantly. Elara. Standing a little apart, trying to hide her nerves behind a soft smile.
"Hey," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
"Hey," she replies, eyes bright but a little glassy.
We walk side by side for a few steps, silence stretching between us, heavy but not uncomfortable.
"I… I'll be back before you know it," I say, trying to keep it casual.
She nods, but I can see the flutter in her chest. "I know," she whispers. "Just… promise me you'll be safe?"
"I promise," I reply, smiling, though my heart feels tight.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. I want to reach out, to hold her hand, but we're not… there yet. Not like that. Not officially.
The announcement for my flight buzzes through the speakers. My chest tightens.
"You'll text me?" she asks, trying to sound playful.
"Of course," I say. "And you better not forget me."
"I won't," she says, but her voice breaks just a little.
I take a small step closer, lowering my voice. "I won't forget you either."
The line for security moves forward, and I have to let her go. We exchange a small wave, our eyes locked for a fraction longer than necessary.
I turn, walking toward the gate, and for the first time, the weight of the two months feels real.
But also… bearable.
Because I know we'll survive somehow. Somehow.
Elara's POV — 37 Days Later
It's been 37 days since he left.
Thirty-seven days of waking up to little notifications from him—flirtatious texts that made me smile even when I wasn't supposed to. Little debates over coffee orders, silly sketches he sends, random "I miss your terrible dancing" messages. Somehow, it's kept him close, even if he's miles away.
I clutch my bag tighter as I walk toward the studio, the morning sun just beginning to warm the streets. My mind is already rehearsing the routine I'll practice today. The steps, the music, the energy—I've been pouring myself into it so much that sometimes it feels like I can almost forget he's gone.
I check my phone mid-step. A text from him:
Claudio: Don't overwork yourself today… but show that studio who owns it. 😏
I grin, typing back a quick reply:
Elara: Always. Someone has to make you proud.
A gust of wind blows, catching my hair in my face. I laugh, tucking it back. I barely notice the street in front of me.And then it happens...The screech of brakes.A blinding flash.The world tilts sideways.I sream.There it had me.the nightmare i never had, who knew it would cost me my passion and the life i once dreamt of leading.
The sterile smell of the hospital makes my head spin. Machines beep softly in the background. White walls. The coldness of everything around me feels like it's pressing against my chest.
I clutch the blanket to my chest, trying to stay upright. The doctor's words replay over and over in my head.
"I'm sorry, Elara. With your injuries, you will not be able to dance again—not professionally. Not the way you were."
The words hit harder than I ever imagined. My stomach drops. My world tilts. Dance wasn't just a hobby—it was me. It was the rhythm of my heart, the way I expressed myself, the part of my soul that felt alive.
And now… it's gone.
I blink, trying to hold back tears. But they come anyway, hot and uncontrollable, burning my cheeks.
Freya sits beside me, holding my hand. Alex standing beside freya . My parents are silent, their faces pale, fear and worry mixed in their eyes.
I take a shaky breath, swallowing hard. "Listen," I say, voice trembling but firm. "Don't… don't tell Claudio. Not yet. Please."
Freya's eyes widen. "Elara… what? Why?"
I look at her, my vision blurred. "He's… he's so far away. And he loves to see me dance. I can't… I can't let him know like this. He'd blame himself. He'd feel guilty… and I can't do that to him. Not now."Alex frowns, running a hand over his face. "You're serious? You're not joking?"
I shake my head. "I'm serious. Promise me—no one says anything. Not a word. Not until I… until I figure out how to deal with this myself."
My parents nod silently, their hands tight over mine. Freya squeezes harder. Alex hesitates, then finally says, "Okay… we won't. But you have to promise me something too. Don't shut us out."
I force a weak smile, tears still slipping down. "I won't. But… Claudio doesn't need to know. Not yet. Please."
And in that moment, lying in a hospital bed with my dreams shattered, I make a silent vow. I'll face this—this new reality—alone for now. But somehow… I'll survive. Somehow.
Because I can't let the one person who makes my heart feel alive… carry this weight.
Claudio's POV — 5 Days Later
It's been five days.
Five days since I last heard from her. Five days of unanswered texts. Five days of calls that go straight to voicemail.
My chest is tight. My stomach twists. Something feels… wrong.
I pace the apartment, phone in hand, staring at her name. The little green dot—always online before—never lights up.
Finally, I can't take it anymore. I dial Freya first.
"Hey, Claudio," she answers, her voice cheerful. Too cheerful.
"Freya… where's Elara? I've been trying to reach her for days. She's not answering!" My voice cracks a little.
"Oh… she's… busy," Freya says quickly. "You know, practice for the dance competition. She's swamped."
I swallow hard, unconvinced. "She's… practicing? For this long?"
"Uh… yeah, she's… really focused," Freya says. A pause. "She'll call you when she's done, okay?"
My heart doesn't ease. Something in her tone is off.
I hang up, fists tight. I can't shake the unease.
I try Alex next.
"Hey, Claudio," Alex says casually. "What's up?"
"Where's Elara? I'm worried. She hasn't answered me in days," I say, my voice firmer this time.
"Oh… dance competition. She's tied up. You know how she gets," Alex replies, shrugging. "She'll reach out when she can."
I grip the phone so hard I think I might break it.
Dance competition. My mind refuses to settle. My gut tells me something's off.I sit down, elbows on my knees, head in my hands. I can't stop thinking about all the "what ifs."
What if she's hurt?
What if something terrible happened?
But Freya and Alex… they're keeping something from me. I can feel it.
And I don't know how long I can wait...