He stood in front of the gate, boarding pass and passport in hand, amidst the long line of business men and families and other passengers awaiting to board the transatlantic flight. And all he could think about was her, her standing there at the airport’s entrance with tears in her eyes just like him, tears for all the time that they had spent together over the past two weeks, tears for all the time that they wouldn’t be able to see each other moving forward. They were tears for all the happiness and tears for all the struggle to come.
He knew it was something special. Two people that found each other despite the oceans and countries and time zones between them; two people brought together by something magical, something meaningful. And with something so magical, something so lovely, he wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t. He knew it; he knew she was the one. Despite the distance, the language barrier, the separation, she was the one.
Picking up his bag, the boy stepped out of line, checked his watch, and walked. He found the way to the exit and ran. When the universe puts something right in front of your face, you’d be a fool not to take it. He couldn’t help it, but as he ran through the terminals and gates, a smile grew on his face partly because of the nerves and partly of the sheer warmth from the thought of seeing her again so soon. He darted past travelers, down stairwells, around luggage carts, and out the automatic doors. Then, he saw her; he shouted her name; he ran to her.
The embrace that followed was one of surprise, joy, and true happiness. As they held each other in their arms, no words were spoken; no verbal communication was needed. Only the sound of their breaths muffled by the other’s body broke up the silence between them. They loosened their embrace; he kissed her; she kissed him. He was hers, and she was his. They were together, and nothing could change it.