Bled, Slovenia – 9:08 AM
Eira woke up with a full-body jolt — not from an alarm, but from something deeper. Like her heart had hit the panic button before her brain even caught up.
She blinked at the ceiling, dazed.
No birdsong. No peaceful morning moment. Just a deep, rising flutter in her chest that felt uncomfortably close to cardiac arrest.
Then it hit her.
"Oh my God… it's today."
Her mouth went dry. Her legs felt weirdly detached from the rest of her. And her stomach? A warzone.
She sat up slowly, like even gravity knew this day was too big to rush through.
Eira's phone buzzed. A message from Ares.
Ares:
✈️ Boarded. Final stop: You.
She made a high-pitched noise that no one but her toothbrush heard.
"Nope. Nope. I can't. He's on a plane right now. Ares. Is. On. A. Plane. Coming. Here."
Her voice cracked somewhere around the fourth word.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, stared blankly at the floor, and tried to breathe like a functional adult. It didn't work.
"What if he doesn't like the way I walk? Or the way I… exist in three dimensions?"
She stumbled into the bathroom, glanced in the mirror, and immediately regretted it.
"WHY does my face look like I've just survived a minor storm?"
"Why didn't I sleep with those cooling patches on?"
"I should've learned contouring. I had three months. I wasted them making playlists like a clown in love."
She turned the tap on just to have something to do with her hands.
Somewhere beneath the chaos, a new fear emerged — the kind that whispers, What if he's disappointed? What if I don't match the version of me he's built in his head?
She dried her face and stared at herself, eyes wide, breath uneven.
"Get it together. You're not meeting an alien. He's just a guy. A guy whose songs broke Spotify. A guy with cheekbones that could slice glass. A guy who literally wrote a line about your laugh and made people cry on TikTok."
She clutched the edge of the sink.
"Nope. Nope, nope, nope. I'm not ready."
And yet—underneath the spiral, beneath the fear—was a flicker of something else.
Hope.
Because somewhere in the clouds, above cities and strangers and all the ways this could go wrong...
He was on his way to her.
-------------
Somewhere over Europe – 10:37 AM
Ares sat by the window seat of the plane, hoodie drawn over his head, music low in his ears, but his mind nowhere near calm.
The sky outside was all white clouds and gold light — unreal, quiet, soft. Almost like her.
He'd written four different confessions in his notes app during the first two hours. None of them felt right.
What do you say to the person who already has pieces of your heart and doesn't even know how deeply they've been sewn in?
Jun cleared his throat beside him, pulling Ares out of his spiral.
"You good?"
"Yeah," Ares lied.
Jun didn't believe him for a second. "You've been staring at your lap like it offended you."
Ares gave a weak smile. "I'm just thinking."
"About her?"
He nodded, hesitant.
Jun rolled his eyes, but his voice was steady. "Okay. I have to ask — why her?"
Ares blinked. "What do you mean?"
Jun shifted in his seat, crossing his arms. "You're a literal chart-topping musician. You could be in Tokyo right now. LA. New York. You've got label meetings lined up next week. And instead, you're flying to a tiny lake town in Slovenia to meet someone you've never even touched."
Ares didn't flinch. "I want to touch her soul before I touch her skin. That's rarer."
Jun was silent for a second too long.
Then, coolly: "You really think she's the real deal?"
"I know she is," Ares replied without hesitation. "You know how many people want the version of me they think I'm selling? Eira doesn't want a stage. She wants the part of me I never give away."
Jun scoffed, quieter this time. "Still feels reckless."
"You don't trust her," Ares said, not accusing — just noticing.
Jun stared ahead. "I don't trust anyone who gets that close to you without knowing how much it costs."
Ares sighed, adjusting his hood. "It's not a cost. It's a choice."
Jun didn't respond.
But his knuckles were white around the coffee cup he held.
-------------
Bled – 12:52 PM
Eira stood in front of the mirror for the fourth time, fiddling with the sleeves of her soft brown coat. She'd changed outfits three times. She didn't want to look "hot." She wanted to look like herself — only slightly upgraded, like a video game character with new armor and higher emotional stats.
Her phone buzzed.
Ares:
Just landed.
She didn't scream this time. She just froze — like her heart had hit a patch of ice and skidded clean out of her chest.
Then she whispered to her reflection: "He's real now."
And in her chest, her heart whispered back: Finally.
--------------
Airport – 1:25 PM
Eira stood by the arrivals gate.
Nerves coiled tight in her stomach.
What if he's disappointed? What if I'm not enough in 3D? What if we look at each other and everything cracks?
She clutched the strap of her bag tighter and tried to breathe through it.
And then—her eyes flicked toward the sliding doors.
And her heart stopped.
Because there he was.
Ares.
In black jeans, a denim jacket with patches on the sleeves, a guitar case slung over one shoulder, and eyes scanning the crowd like he was searching for something he wasn't sure he deserved to find.
There he is, her mind whispered. The boy who stayed on the call while you cried. The one who sent voice notes of him singing because you said your dreams felt too loud. The boy who never let go.
He didn't see her yet.
But she couldn't stop looking.
Her fingers tingled.
Her chest ached.
God, she thought, he's more beautiful than any version of him I imagined.
------------
Across the Terminal
Ares scanned the crowd.
Too many faces. Too many lights. His pulse was too loud in his ears.
What if she's not here? What if I'm too early? What if this whole thing was a fantasy I clung to because I needed something that felt human again?
Then — he saw her.
Brown coat. Big eyes. Soft shoulders hunched like she was trying to fold into herself.
His breath caught.
That's her.
That's Eira.
She looked smaller in person, but brighter, like her edges glowed under the pale light of the terminal.
And she was staring straight at him.
Not waving.
Not moving.
Just seeing.
And suddenly, the entire journey — every mile, every second, every ache in his chest — made perfect, excruciating sense.
You're real, he thought. And you're mine.
He didn't take a step forward yet.
Neither did she.
Just two souls frozen across the floor — locked in a moment so loud with feeling it could knock down buildings.