Together/Not

1 ⌛️The Wait

I'm in a hurry.

Every second feels like a heartbeat wasted.
Each moment slipping away like sand through my fingers.
I have to get there as soon as possible.

But now, I'm stuck.

Could this get any worse?
Of course.
Every single time I find myself racing against the clock, something goes awry. It's as if the universe conspires against me, adding to my misery with every tick of the clock.

Immigration is holding me up for reasons I can't begin to understand. My foot taps restlessly against the cold, hard floor, a futile attempt to soothe the mounting impatience churning within me. My pulse quickens, my mind a tempest of guilt and doubt.
I can't shake the feeling that I've done something wrong—have I?

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours, each one more agonizing than the last. Time slips through my grasp, taunting me with its relentless passage.

Finally, the officer calls my name, his gaze piercing and unwavering as he interrogates me. I fight to keep my voice steady, to maintain a façade of calm.
I just need to get through this.

At last, I'm free to go.

Finally.

I grab my bags and start running. My legs ache, the bags are heavy, and sweat pours down my neck.

He's waiting for me.
He's always waiting for me.

I see him from across the street, so serious and distressed.
His coffee finished, again.

I try to steady myself as I cross over to him, masking my breathlessness with a forced smile. "How are you?" I ask, pretending everything is fine, as if the long, blistering walk hasn't drained every ounce of energy from me.

He doesn't smile back. His voice cuts through the air, sharp. "Why do I always have to wait for you?"

My stomach twists. The guilt hits harder than his words. He's mad.

I hate seeing him mad—it's a dark, unsettling feeling that I desperately want to avoid. His anger feels like a storm, and I never want to be caught in its path.

The fear and disappointment are overwhelming, a crushing reminder that I've let him down. Again. I open my mouth to apologize, to explain, but no words come. Instead, I offer him the only thing I can—a smile, fragile and hollow.

"I know," I whisper. "I know."