Late September brought the kind of wind that hinted at change. Leaves rustled along the university pathways, and students pulled their sweaters tighter, sensing that summer had folded itself away for good.
Talia sat cross-legged on a bench outside the library, eyes fixed on the message on her phone screen. It was from her professor.
Clinical rotation placements out next week. Preference forms due Friday. Final choices. No changes.
Three lines. That's all it took to send her world into a quiet spin.
She knew this day was coming. They'd been warned about it since week one. "Start thinking early," they said. "Your placement could shape your career." Everyone was scrambling to lock in the best cities, the most prestigious hospitals, the units with the cleanest reputations.
And Ezra?
Ezra was planning on staying.
He'd applied for a placement right here—in the teaching hospital affiliated with their uni. Stable. Predictable. Safe. Ezra.
Talia, on the other hand, had stared at the form for hours. London. Edinburgh. New York. Cape Town. She could go anywhere. She wanted to go everywhere.
But the idea of packing her life into a suitcase and leaving this new, delicate thing they had? That part left her stomach tangled.
She didn't even hear him approach.
Ezra dropped down beside her, holding two coffees. "Hey, you good?"
She took one automatically, wrapping her cold fingers around the cup. "Yeah. Just thinking."
His eyes flicked to her phone. "Rotation form?"
She nodded, hesitant. "You've already submitted yours?"
He sipped his drink. "Last night. I stuck with the local option. Keeps everything simple. Close."
"Close," she repeated, unsure if it comforted or terrified her.
Ezra studied her face. "What are you thinking?"
Talia leaned back against the bench. "That I've always wanted to see more. Be more. I used to dream about being assigned halfway across the world—just me, a backpack, and a white coat."
Ezra was quiet for a beat. Then: "So why does it sound like you're apologizing for that?"
Her eyes darted to his. "Because for the first time, staying doesn't feel like losing. And leaving doesn't feel like freedom. It feels like walking away from… this."
Ezra looked at her, really looked, like he was trying to read the words she hadn't written yet.
"Talia, if going is what you need—go. Don't choose me because it's easier."
"I'm not choosing easy," she said quietly. "I'm trying to figure out what choice doesn't wreck me."
He reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I love you enough to let you chase the life you want."
Talia's breath hitched. "You do?"
"I do," he said simply. "But I also love you enough to hope you come back."
—
The next day, she stood at her kitchen table, staring at the form. The cursor blinked like a heartbeat beside the "Location Preference" field.
She could go anywhere.
She could stay.
She could risk everything.
She reached for a pen—not the keyboard. She wrote her answer in bold ink.
Then she folded the paper, placed it in the envelope, and sealed it before she could second-guess herself.
—
Two nights later, Ezra found her on the roof of their building, hood up, knees pulled to her chest.
He sat beside her without saying a word.
"I sent the form," she said, voice low.
He waited.
"I picked a hospital in Cape Town," she finally whispered. "It's six months. Maybe longer if I get a fellowship."
Ezra nodded slowly. "Okay."
"I'm scared," she admitted.
He reached for her hand. "So am I."
Talia leaned her head against his shoulder. "You're not mad?"
"No." He exhaled. "But I'll miss you so bad it might break me."
She turned toward him. "I don't want us to end."
"Then let's not," he said. "Let's burn the map, Talia. Let's stop planning like there's one right way to do this."
Her heart clenched. "You'd wait for me?"
"I'd write you letters every week," Ezra said. "Fold them into paper cranes if I have to. I'd fly to Cape Town on a student budget just to spend a weekend. I'd do the long-distance, the time zones, the hard days. If it means we still have a chance, I'll take it."
Talia looked at him, eyes wide and wet. "I've never had someone love me like this."
Ezra smiled, soft and sad. "You've always deserved it."
And just like that, she kissed him—slow and deep, like goodbye and promise all at once.
—
Three weeks later, her flight left just before sunrise.
Ezra stood at the gate, gripping her hand until the final boarding call. They didn't say much. They didn't need to. Every letter he had written. Every night they had spent memorizing each other's rhythms. Every fight, every laugh, every breath between them had already said it all.
As she walked away, she looked back once.
He was still there.
Watching.
Waiting.
Loving her enough to let her go.
And Talia Harper—once too stubborn to stay, too wild to pause—boarded that plane not to escape love, but to honor it.
Because love wasn't always about staying.
Sometimes, it was about believing in what could survive the distance.