Loving Someone Across an Ocean
Boston felt wrong.
That was Clara’s first clear thought after landing.
Not unfamiliar. Not unpleasant.
Wrong.
The city moved exactly as it always had. Taxis flooded crowded streets beneath gray February skies, people rushed through sidewalks carrying coffee cups and winter coats, and tall glass buildings reflected cold afternoon light across the city.
Everything remained unchanged.
But Clara no longer felt unchanged inside it.
As the taxi carried her through downtown Boston toward her apartment, she stared quietly out the window while exhaustion settled deep into her bones.
Not physical exhaustion.
Emotional exhaustion.
The kind created by loving someone thousands of miles away.
Her phone vibrated softly in her coat pocket.
Elias.
Just seeing his name made her chest tighten immediately.
Did you get home safely?
Clara closed her eyes briefly before replying.
Yeah. The city looks exactly the same. I hate it already.
His response came almost instantly.
That’s dramatic.
A weak smile appeared on her face despite everything.
I learned from Margaret.
After a few seconds another message arrived.
I miss you already.
The honesty of it hurt beautifully.
Clara pressed the phone lightly against her chest for a moment while traffic moved slowly outside the taxi windows.
She missed him too.
Too much already.
That first week apart felt strangely unbearable.
Not because anything went wrong between them.
Because nothing did.
That was the problem.
Every conversation with Elias only reminded Clara how real this relationship had become.
They called constantly despite the time difference. Early mornings before work. Late nights before sleep. Random moments in between when one of them missed the other too sharply to wait.
Clara learned the exact sleepy tone Elias’s voice carried at midnight in Edinburgh.
Elias learned Clara became emotionally unreasonable whenever she skipped meals while working.
Somehow distance made them notice each other even more carefully.
But no matter how often they talked, absence remained physical.
And physical absence hurt.
One Thursday evening, Clara returned home after an exhausting workday and immediately stopped inside the doorway of her apartment.
Silence.
The entire place felt painfully quiet.
She used to love that quietness.
Now it only reminded her she was alone.
Clara dropped her bag onto the couch before walking automatically toward the kitchen, then froze halfway there because her brain suddenly expected Elias to be standing near the counter making coffee.
The realization hit hard enough to steal her breath briefly.
God.
Her entire life had adjusted itself around him frighteningly fast.
Before she could spiral further emotionally, her phone rang.
Elias.
Clara answered instantly.
“You have terrifying timing,” she said immediately.
His soft laugh moved through the speaker. “That sounds concerning.”
“I just emotionally hallucinated you in my kitchen.”
“That’s either romantic or medically serious.”
“Probably both.”
The warmth in his voice settled something restless inside her chest almost immediately.
Clara leaned against the counter while closing her eyes briefly.
“How was work?” Elias asked softly.
She sighed dramatically. “Terrible. Americans are exhausting.”
“You are American.”
“Exactly. I have authority on the subject.”
Another quiet laugh.
God, she missed hearing it properly instead of through a phone speaker.
That ache never fully disappeared.
For a while they talked about ordinary things. Her editor assigning too many deadlines. Margaret sending Elias aggressive messages demanding updates about “the emotional state of the romance.” The café near Blackwater House changing coffee suppliers and apparently causing national tragedy according to Elias.
Simple conversations.
Domestic conversations.
The kind that somehow made distance feel both easier and worse simultaneously.
Eventually Clara slid down onto the floor beside the couch, exhaustion finally catching up to her completely.
Elias noticed immediately.
“You’re tired.”
“Emotionally and physically.”
“You haven’t been sleeping properly.”
It wasn’t a question.
Clara smiled weakly to herself. “You notice too much.”
“I love you. It comes with observation.”
The words settled deeply inside her chest.
Even now, weeks later, hearing him say I love you still affected her every single time.
Because nothing about it sounded casual.
Elias always spoke love like something deliberate.
Something chosen carefully.
Clara rested her head back against the couch cushions while silence settled softly between them for a moment.
Then she asked quietly, “Are we going to survive this?”
The question escaped before she could stop it.
Immediately the line went quiet.
Not uncomfortable quiet.
Heavy quiet.
Because both of them had been thinking it already.
Distance changed relationships. No amount of love magically erased exhaustion, schedules, loneliness, or the ache of missing someone you could no longer touch.
Clara stared toward the ceiling while anxiety tightened slowly inside her chest.
Finally Elias spoke.
“Yes.”
The certainty in his voice surprised her.
“You sound very confident.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
A small pause followed before he answered.
“Because I’ve lived without you before, and now I know exactly how miserable that feels.”
Emotion rose painfully into Clara’s throat.
“You can’t just say devastating things casually.”
“I’m not being casual.”
No.
He wasn’t.
That was the problem.
Clara closed her eyes tightly for a second while emotion moved heavily through her chest.
On the other side of the ocean, Elias remained quiet too.
Then eventually he spoke again, softer now.
“Clara?”
“Yeah?”
“Come here next month.”
Her eyes opened immediately.
“What?”
“I’m serious.” His voice stayed calm, but she could hear hope hidden underneath it carefully. “Come back to Edinburgh for a few days.”
The idea hit her all at once.
Seeing him again.
Blackwater House again.
His hands. His voice without distance. His warmth beside her instead of trapped behind screens and phone calls.
Clara’s heartbeat sped painfully fast.
“That’s a terrible idea,” she whispered weakly.
“Probably.”
“I have work.”
“You also have me.”
God.
She laughed helplessly under her breath because he sounded so sincere saying it.
“You really want me to come back?”
The silence lasted only a second this time.
“More than anything.”
And suddenly Clara realized something terrifying.
The moment he asked, part of her had already decided yes.