One Night
London — January 2025
The apartment was beautiful.
Annoyingly beautiful.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Soft lighting. Modern furniture that looked too expensive to touch.
It suited Elle perfectly.
And Leah hated it slightly.
Not because she disliked the apartment.
Because it made everything feel real.
London.
Work.
Separate lives existing in the same country now instead of across an ocean.
"You're doing the face," Elle murmured while unpacking kitchen glasses.
"What face?"
"The emotionally overwhelmed one."
Leah looked offended immediately.
"I'm literally standing."
"Sadly."
Rude.
Very rude.
But unfortunately accurate.
The first day passed easily enough.
Coffee runs. Unpacking boxes. Leah pretending to help while mostly distracting Elle by kissing her every ten minutes.
Normal behaviour.
But then night came.
And suddenly there it was.
The awkwardness neither of them expected.
Because technically—
technically this was Elle's home now.
Not a hotel.
Not a visit.
And Leah had training early the next morning in St. Albans.
Meaning for the first time in months, they actually had to decide where "home" was supposed to be.
"You should probably go," Elle said softly near midnight.
Leah nodded automatically from the sofa.
"Yeah."
Neither moved.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The silence stretched slightly.
Leah looked toward the windows overlooking London while something uncomfortable settled in her chest.
Not fear.
Just disappointment.
Because after Christmas and Miami and waking up together every morning for weeks—
this suddenly felt wrong.
Elle noticed immediately.
"You okay?"
Leah laughed quietly under her breath.
"Yeah."
Lie.
Very obvious lie.
Elle walked slowly toward the sofa then until she stood directly in front of her.
"You hate this."
Leah looked up immediately.
"No, I don't."
"You do."
Silence.
Then finally—
"I just got used to you."
God.
That sentence landed softly.
Painfully softly.
Leah looked exhausted suddenly.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
"I know this is healthy," she admitted quietly. "Separate space. Independence. Adult behaviour."
"But?"
Leah smiled weakly.
"But I think I sleep better next to you."
And unfortunately?
Elle felt exactly the same.
Still—
they tried.
Leah kissed her slowly at the apartment door before finally forcing herself to leave.
And the second the door closed behind her, both women immediately realised something.
The apartment felt empty.
Too empty.
—
St. Albans felt worse.
Leah lasted approximately forty minutes before spiralling completely.
The bed was cold.
The flat was quiet.
And worst of all—
for the first time in ages, there was nobody half-asleep stealing the duvet beside her.
Hopeless.
Absolutely hopeless.
Meanwhile in London, Elle lay staring at the ceiling of her new apartment feeling exactly the same kind of restless ache.
This wasn't New York distance.
Which somehow made it worse.
Because Leah was close enough to touch now.
Close enough to miss properly.
Her phone buzzed at 1:12am.
Elle smiled instantly.
You lasted an hour.
I'm suffering.
Bravely?
Obviously.
Silence for a minute.
Then another message appeared.
Elle stared at the screen smiling softly already.
Leah.
Another typing bubble instantly.
No actually hear me out.
Oh no.
That tone never led anywhere emotionally stable.
Elle bit back a smile.
Meaning?
This time Leah called instead.
And the second Elle answered, Leah looked deeply annoyed with life itself.
"I hate sleeping without you now," she announced immediately.
No hello.
No dignity.
Just honesty.
Elle laughed softly into the pillow.
"You're clingy."
"Yes."
"At least you're self-aware."
Leah groaned dramatically before running a tired hand through her hair.
"I'm serious though."
The softness in her voice shifted everything slightly.
"I don't think we need to pretend we want loads of space just because it sounds healthier."
Elle went quiet.
Because maybe she'd been thinking the same thing all night.
Leah looked nervous suddenly.
Interesting.
"I love that you have your own place," she continued carefully. "And I love that you built something here for yourself."
The sincerity in it mattered.
Because she did mean that.
"But maybe..." Leah hesitated briefly. "Maybe we split properly."
"What does that mean?"
"Half London. Half St. Albans."
Silence.
Then slowly—
Elle smiled.
Because somehow that sounded exactly right.
Not giving up independence.
Not pretending distance felt easier than it did.
Just choosing each other honestly.
Leah saw the smile immediately and relaxed into her pillow.
"You really couldn't survive one night?"
Leah looked deeply serious.
"No. It's horrible."
That finally made Elle laugh properly.
And somewhere between London and St. Albans in the middle of the night, both women quietly realised the same thing:
home had stopped being a place.
Now it was just wherever the other one was.