Chapter 18
Winter arrived faster than Clara had imagined.
After the sunny months spent enjoying their new house and the few vacation days that had let them rediscover an almost carefree closeness, everyday life gradually took over again.
Thomas now traveled regularly for his new position.
His trips were never very long, but their frequency had changed their routines.
Some mornings, Clara woke up alone to find the other side of the bed still cold.
Some evenings, she ate dinner alone in front of a show she wasn't even really watching, her phone beside her as she waited for a message.
She didn't regret that Thomas had taken this opportunity, but she was beginning to understand that supporting someone's ambitions didn't make the absence any easier.
As for her, her second novel was in the editor's hands.
Clara had felt immense relief when she sent the manuscript, but then the waiting began.
Each comment from the editor could lead to a new rewrite; each silence made her feel like something was wrong.
She tried not to fall back into her old habits, though.
She kept writing in a notebook but refused to check her email every ten minutes.
She'd even started cooking more and going out with friends when she felt she was spending too much time alone.
One morning, while she was eating breakfast, her phone rang. It was Thomas.
“Good morning.”
“Did I wake you?”
“No.”
She checked the time.
“Well, yes, but only a little.”
“Sorry.”
“Where are you?”
“At the airport.”
“You're coming home today?”
“Yes.”
A smile spread across her face.
“What time?”
“Late afternoon.”
“I'll come pick you up.”
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because I want to.”
He was quiet for a few seconds.
“I missed you.”
Clara's heart squeezed.
“Me too.”
After hanging up, she sat still for a few moments. She wondered why such simple words could make her feel so good. Then she understood that it wasn't the absence that was driving them apart. It was how they were learning to get through it.
When she met Thomas a few hours later, he looked tired but was smiling. He put his suitcase in the trunk and came right over to kiss her.
“You look good.”
“You're lying.”
“A little.”
“And you look tired.”
“I waited for you.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be.”
They drove home talking about their days. Thomas told her about his trip, the meetings, the problems he'd run into, and a few funny moments along the way. Clara told him about her manuscript, her walks, and a new idea she'd had for a future project.
That evening, they made dinner together.
The simplicity of it felt good. But the days that followed revealed a challenge they hadn't fully anticipated.
Thomas was in higher and higher demand. His team was running into problems, and he sometimes had to work late even when he was home.
Clara, meanwhile, had started getting more requests related to her book.
She had to respond to journalists, attend readings, and work on the release of her second novel. They were happy, but constantly busy.
One evening, Clara came home from a literary event and found Thomas at his computer.
“You're still working?”
“Yes.”
“You said you'd stop at nine.”
He looked at the clock.
“It's nine twenty.”
“Exactly.”
“I have to finish something.”
Clara set down her bag.
“Okay.”
She went into the kitchen. A few minutes later, Thomas joined her.
“Are you mad?”
“No.”
“You seem like you are.”
“I'm tired.”
“Me too.”
She turned to face him.
“It's not just that.”
Thomas waited.
“I feel like we spend all our time running.”
“I know.”
“We work, we travel, we answer emails, we meet people, and in the end, we don’t even know when it’s just the two of us anymore.”
Thomas lowered his eyes.
“You’re right.”
“I don’t want our relationship to become something we try to squeeze in between obligations.”
“Neither do I.”
He moved closer.
“What do we do?”
Clara thought.
“We slow down.”
“How?”
“By deciding that not everything is urgent.”
Thomas smiled slightly.
“That’s easier said than done.”
“Then we’ll learn.”
They decided to change some of their habits. Clara deliberately cut back on the events she attended. Thomas negotiated with his team to avoid back-to-back trips. They also established a simple rule: when they were together in the evening, their phones stayed in a drawer for at least an hour.
At first, it felt strange. Then they got used to it. They started talking more. They cooked together. They played cards. They went for walks after dinner. Clara realized they didn’t need big vacations to rediscover their connection. They simply needed to make themselves available to each other.
One Sunday morning, as they were having their coffee, Thomas received a work message. He looked at the screen, then set it down.
“You’re not answering?”
“No.”
“That’s new.”
“It can wait.”
Clara smiled.
“I’m proud of you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re learning.”
“You too.”
They continued their breakfast.
A few days later, Clara’s editor asked her to come to a meeting. Clara immediately felt her anxiety return.
“Do you think there’s a problem?” Thomas asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to come?”
She hesitated.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll tell me about it.”
The meeting was much more positive than she had imagined. Her editor explained that the second novel was ready to move into a new phase of preparation.
“We’re going to start working on the launch.”
Clara smiled.
“Already?”
“Yes.”
“I feel like I just finished yesterday.”
“That’s normal.”
She was also offered several public appearances and a more significant interview than the previous ones. Clara accepted some of the proposals, but not all. She had learned to choose.
Leaving the meeting, she called Thomas.
“Good news.”
“I’m listening.”
“My second book is moving forward.”
“I knew it would happen.”
“You can’t say you knew every time.”
“I can.”
She laughed.
That evening, they celebrated with an impromptu dinner. After the meal, they went out on the terrace despite the cold. Thomas draped a blanket over Clara’s shoulders.
“Are you cold?”
“A little.”
“Then come inside.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I like it here.”
They looked at the city lights.
“Do you know what I was thinking about today?” Clara asked.
“What?”
“The beginning of our story.”
Thomas smiled.
“I think about it sometimes too.”
“Do you think we would have imagined all this?”
“Not for a second.”
“Me neither.”
She took his hand.
“Sometimes I feel like I’ve lived several lives.”
“And now?”
“Now, I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be.”
Thomas looked at her.
“Even when I’m away?”
Clara smiled.
“Even when you’re away.”
“Even when I work too much?”
“That’s harder.”
He laughed.
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
They sat in silence. A deep emotion washed over Clara.
For so long, she’d believed that love had to be a series of extraordinary moments.
Now she understood that the strongest relationships were built mostly during the ordinary times—when you had to keep choosing each other despite the exhaustion, the demands, and the imperfections.
A few weeks later, though, something unexpected threw them off balance. Thomas came home one evening looking serious.
“I need to talk to you.”
Clara put down her book.
“What’s going on?”
“I’ve been offered a six-month assignment.”
She froze.
“Six months?”
“Yes.”
“Abroad?”
“Yes.”
A heavy silence fell between them.
“And you want to go?”
Thomas didn’t answer right away.
“Yes.”
Clara looked away. She felt an old fear creeping back—the fear of losing someone, of having to wait, of ending up alone. For a few seconds, she wanted to tell him no. Then she remembered what they’d promised each other.
She took a breath.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Because I wanted to be certain.”
“And now?”
“Now, I want to know what you think.”
Clara stood up and walked to the window.
“I don’t know.”
“Okay.”
“I’m scared.”
“Me too.”
“Six months is a long time.”
“I know.”
“What if it changes something between us?”
“It could.”
She turned around.
“You’re not reassuring me.”
“I don’t want to lie to you.”
His honesty was comforting, even though the conversation was hard.
“What do you really want?”
Thomas looked at her.
“I want to accept this assignment. But I also want our life.”
Clara felt tears welling up.
“Me too.”
They sat facing each other.
“Then we need to figure out how to have both.”
They spent most of the evening working out solutions.
Clara could join him for a few weeks during his assignment.
They could set up regular calls. Thomas would come home whenever his schedule allowed.
Nothing guaranteed it would be easy, but at least they’d decided not to just let the situation happen to them.
A few days later, Thomas accepted. His departure was set for the following month. Clara used the remaining time to get things in order. She didn’t want to turn those weeks into some sad countdown. They kept going out, seeing their friends, and enjoying their home.
One evening, they packed his suitcases together.
“You’re taking too many shirts.”
“You’re one to talk?”
“Yes.”
“You have three suitcases.”
“They’re books.”
“You don’t need twelve books.”
“I can’t predict which ones I’ll want to read.”
Thomas smiled.
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet you love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
She threw a pillow at him. They burst out laughing.
The day of departure came anyway. At the airport, Clara felt her heart clench. Thomas took her hands.
“I’m going to miss you.”
“Me too.”
“Are you okay?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
He gave her a sad smile.
“Me neither.”
They kissed for a long time. Then Thomas left.
Clara stood there for a few seconds before heading home.
The first evening was hard. So was the second.
But by the third, she was working normally again.
She wrote several pages, went for a walk, and called a friend.
That’s when she understood something important.
The absence didn’t destroy what they had built. It simply revealed how strong it was.
The weeks that followed fell into a rhythm shaped by Thomas's calls.
They often talked in the evenings, sometimes for just a few minutes, sometimes for more than an hour.
They shared stories about their days, their worries, and their small victories.
Clara was making headway on her novel. Thomas was advancing in his assignment.
They were growing individually while still building something together.
When Clara received the first proofs of her second book, she opened them with trembling hands. She immediately sent a photograph of the cover to Thomas.
A few minutes later, he replied.
“It's beautiful.”
Clara smiled.
“You haven't even read the new version yet.”
“I know.”
“So how can you know?”
“Because it's your story.”
She set down her phone. Tears welled up in her eyes.
She realized those words perhaps summed up everything they had built.
He didn't love her because she had succeeded.
He didn't love her because she had changed.
He loved her because she had become herself.
And she loved him without needing him constantly by her side to feel whole.
A few months later, Thomas came home for a few days. Clara was waiting for him at the train station. When she saw him step off the train, her heart raced just like it had the very first time.
He walked toward her.
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“I missed you.”
“So much.”
They kissed. Then they left the station hand in hand. Clara knew the separation wasn't over yet. He would leave again soon. But something had changed. They were no longer afraid of being apart. They knew now that their love didn't depend on distance.
In the car, Thomas looked at Clara.
“Are you happy?”
She smiled.
“Yes.”
“Despite everything?”
“Because of everything.”
He said nothing. He simply took her hand. And Clara understood that some stories didn't become more beautiful because they were easy. They became stronger because two people chose, again and again, to keep writing them.