Chapter 113 CHAPTER 113:A DISTANCE BETWEEN US
Two months after Elara got better after the doctors started using words like stable and encouraging and no immediate concerns Calvin leaves.
Not because he wants to.
Because sometimes life doesn’t pause just because you survived something.
The business trip to Milan had been hovering on the edges of their lives for years, postponed again and again for reasons that once felt important, then irrelevant, then cruelly ironic. Expansion talks. Partnerships. The kind of opportunity people dream about and resent in equal measure.
“This time it’s only two months,” Calvin says, standing in the bedroom with his suitcase open, hands braced on the edge like he’s steadying himself against something invisible.
Elara sits on the bed, legs crossed, watching him with an expression she can’t quite name.
Two months shouldn’t feel like a threat.
But it does.
“I’ll be fine,” she says, because she knows he needs to hear it.
He looks at her sharply. “I know you will. That’s not why I’m worried.”
That makes her chest tighten.
The airport goodbye is quieter than either of them expects.
No dramatic promises. No tears in public. Just hands clasped too tightly, foreheads touching, breaths syncing instinctively like they’ve learned how to borrow calm from each other.
“Call me when you land,” Elara says.
“Every day,” Calvin replies. “Even if it’s boring.”
She smiles. “Especially if it’s boring.”
He kisses her slow, deliberate, grounding like he’s memorizing the exact feel of her mouth in case distance tries to erase it.
When he walks away, he doesn’t look back.
He knows if he does, he might not get on the plane.
Elara tells herself the quiet is temporary.
The house feels too large the first night. Sounds echo differently without Calvin there to absorb them. She moves through rooms slowly, noticing small things she hadn’t before the hum of the refrigerator, the way the floor creaks near the hallway, the clock ticking too loudly in the living room.
Healing gave her her body back.
But this this is learning how to be alone inside it again.
She throws herself into routine.
Morning walks.
Physical therapy exercises she still does out of habit.
Work meetings.
Cooking meals she freezes and pretends she’s just being efficient, not lonely.
It works.
Mostly.
Mail comes on a Tuesday.
It’s unremarkable at first bills, flyers, a thin envelope addressed in handwriting she doesn’t recognize.
Her name is written carefully.
Too carefully.
She opens it without thinking.
Inside is a short note.
Elara,
I don’t know if you’ll remember me. I wasn’t sure if I should write. I’m in town briefly and thought… maybe seeing you would bring some closure. If not, ignore this. I understand.
Ace
Her stomach drops.
Ace.
A name she hasn’t spoken aloud in years.
A past she packed away neatly, sealed tight, and labeled before.
She sits at the kitchen table for a long time, letter resting against her palm like it’s warmer than paper should be.
She tells herself she won’t go.
She tells herself closure is a myth.
She tells herself Calvin doesn’t need this complication while he’s already far away.
And then quietly, honestly she admits she’s curious.
They meet by accident.
That’s the story Elara tells herself.
She’s at a small café near the river, one she used to love before hospitals and surgeries and fear rearranged her world. She orders tea, sits by the window, breathes in something close to peace.
Then someone says her name.
She looks up.
Ace hasn’t changed as much as she expected.
Older, yes. Lines near his eyes. Hair cut shorter. But the same familiar presence easy, confident, like he never had to fight his way into rooms.
“Elara,” he says again, softer. “I was hoping it was you.”
Her first instinct is to leave.
Her second is to stay.
“Hi, Ace,” she says, voice steady despite the sudden thudding in her chest.
They sit.
Across from each other.
Distance measured not in inches but in years.
Calvin hates Milan.
He tells himself it’s jet lag. Long meetings. Too many voices, too many expectations. But the truth sits heavier than that.
Elara isn’t here.
He calls her every night, like he promised. Sometimes they talk for an hour. Sometimes ten minutes. He listens for things he can’t see fatigue in her voice, hesitation, silence stretched just a little too long.
“You okay?” he asks more often than necessary.
“I’m okay,” she always answers.
He wants to believe her.
At the café, conversation with Ace feels surreal.
They talk about safe things at first.
Work.
Travel.
Mutual acquaintances they’ve both quietly moved on from.
“You look good,” Ace says finally. “Healthy.”
Elara nods. “I am. Now.”
He hesitates. “I heard about… everything.”
She stiffens instinctively, then relaxes.
“It was a year,” she says. “I survived.”
“I’m glad,” he says sincerely. “I always wondered how you were.”
She believes him.
That’s what unsettles her most.
Ace doesn’t flirt.
That surprises her.
He doesn’t reach across the table. Doesn’t linger too long on her smile. Doesn’t speak like he’s trying to reclaim something.
He just… listens.
It feels intimate in a way she didn’t expect—and doesn’t entirely like.
“You’re married,” he says eventually.
“Yes,” Elara replies without hesitation.
“How is he?” Ace asks.
She smiles despite herself. “He’s… steady. Kind. The kind of man who stays.”
Ace nods slowly. “You always deserved that.”
The words land heavier than intended.
They part without promises.
No exchanged numbers.
No plans to meet again.
Just a quiet goodbye and a shared understanding that some chapters don’t need revisiting to be acknowledged.
Still, as Elara walks home, her thoughts feel unsettled.
Not because she wants Ace.
Because she remembers who she was when she loved him.
And how much she’s changed since then.
Calvin feels it before he knows it.
That subtle shift. That instinctive tightening in his chest during a call where Elara pauses just a fraction longer before answering a question.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again.
“Yes,” she says. Then, after a beat, “Calvin… something happened.”
His heart drops.
She tells him.
Not immediately. Not perfectly. But honestly.
About the letter.
The café.
The conversation.
She doesn’t hide anything.
Silence stretches across the ocean between them.
“I didn’t seek him out,” she says quietly. “But I didn’t walk away either.”
Calvin exhales slowly.
“I don’t think you did anything wrong,” he says after a moment.
That’s the truth.
What scares him is not Ace.
It’s distance.
“I trust you,” he continues. “I just… hate that I wasn’t there.”
“I know,” Elara replies. “I hated that too.”
They sit in the discomfort together.
No accusations.
No drama.
Just the reality that healing doesn’t mean vulnerability disappears it just changes shape.
That night, Elara lies in bed alone, hand resting over her heart.
Meeting Ace didn’t reopen old wounds.
It reminded her how far she’s come.
And how deeply she’s rooted now.
Calvin stands at a hotel window in Milan, city lights stretching endlessly below, phone still warm in his hand.
Distance tested them.
Not by temptation.
But by honesty.
And as uncomfortable as it was, neither of them broke.