Shifting Priorities

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The days after Winter's departure were a blur for Karina. She threw herself back into her work, using the relentless pace of her career to distract herself from the ache of their separation. But no matter how busy she kept herself, there was always a lingering emptiness that followed her—a constant reminder that Winter was no longer by her side.

Her group's European tour continued, each city blurring into the next as they performed in front of packed arenas, posed for countless photoshoots, and gave interviews to eager reporters. The energy from the fans was intoxicating, and Karina fed off it, giving every performance her all. But the high of being on stage was always followed by the inevitable low when she returned to her empty hotel room at night.

She and Winter continued to text and call whenever they could, but their conversations were often rushed, squeezed in between meetings and events. The time difference didn't help, making it difficult to find moments when they were both free to talk. And while they both tried to stay positive, Karina could sense the strain in Winter's voice—an undercurrent of frustration that mirrored her own.

One night, after a particularly grueling performance in Berlin, Karina sat alone in her hotel room, scrolling through her phone. She pulled up her messages with Winter, rereading their recent conversations. They were full of love and encouragement, but also a growing sense of weariness.

Karina sighed, tossing her phone aside as she leaned back against the headboard. She felt a pang of guilt—she knew Winter was working just as hard as she was, if not harder, and that they were both struggling to keep their relationship afloat. But the reality of their lives was starting to weigh on her in a way she hadn't anticipated.

Her phone buzzed, breaking her from her thoughts. It was a message from Winter.

Winter: "Hey, just finished a late meeting. How was your show tonight?"

Karina quickly picked up her phone and replied.

Karina: "It went well, thanks. But I'm exhausted. How are you?"

There was a pause before Winter responded.

Winter: "Tired, but hanging in there. I've been thinking about you all day."

Karina: "I've been thinking about you too. I miss you so much, Winter."

Winter: "I miss you too. I hate that we're so far apart."

Karina hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. There was so much she wanted to say—how much she missed Winter, how hard it was to be apart, how she sometimes wondered if they were asking too much of themselves. But she didn't want to add to Winter's stress, so she settled for something simpler.

Karina: "I hate it too. But we'll get through this, right?"

Winter: "Of course we will. We're strong, Karina. We just have to stay focused on what's important."

Karina smiled at Winter's words, even as a knot of uncertainty tightened in her chest. She wanted to believe that they were strong enough to handle anything, but the distance between them felt like an ever-present shadow, threatening to overtake them.

Karina: "You're right. We just need to keep our priorities straight."

Winter: "Exactly. And right now, my priority is making sure you know how much I love you."

Karina: "I love you too, Winter. More than anything."

They exchanged a few more messages, their conversation gradually lightening as they focused on the positive. But after they said goodnight, Karina couldn't shake the feeling that something was shifting between them—something subtle but significant.

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