Mila Emila

3; Part 7: Promises of Calls and Letters

The café was filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of coffee cups, but for Mila and Reiks, it felt like they were in their own world. They sat in a quiet corner, leaning close, as if to block out everything but each other. The late afternoon light spilled through the window, casting a warm glow across the table, yet there was an unmistakable tension lingering between them, the kind of heaviness that only comes before a goodbye.

Mila reached out, slipping her hand into Reiks’s, her fingers cool against his. She traced small circles on the back of his hand, focusing on the movement as if it would help her memorize every detail of this moment. “You know, as soon as I’m settled, I’ll write to you,” she said softly, her eyes fixed on their intertwined fingers. “I don’t want a single week to go by without you hearing from me.”

Reiks nodded, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll be waiting for every letter. And I’ll write back—probably so often you’ll be sick of hearing from me,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood, though his voice held an edge that he couldn’t quite hide. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, a small gesture, but in this moment, it felt as significant as a vow.

She let out a soft laugh, but it was laced with a tremor. “Promise?” she asked, her tone barely a whisper, as if afraid that saying it out loud might jinx it.

“I promise,” he replied, his voice steady yet gentle, carrying a weight that felt as fragile as it was firm. “Every weekend, we’ll talk. I’ll tell you all about the boring stuff I’m up to, and you can tell me all about the new adventures waiting for you.” He tried to keep his tone light, but his grip on her hand tightened, his own fears momentarily surfacing.

Mila’s gaze softened, her eyes searching his face as if she was trying to memorize every contour, every expression. “Reiks…” She paused, her voice breaking slightly, and then she steadied herself. “Do you think…do you really believe we’ll still be us after this?” She was looking at him with a vulnerability that was rare for her, her usual confident demeanor peeling back to reveal a depth of fear that took him by surprise.

Reiks looked down for a moment, feeling the sting of her question. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had asked himself the same thing countless times. “Mila,” he began, squeezing her hand reassuringly, “we’ve been through too much to let a little distance change things. I don’t know what it’s going to be like, but I do know that you and I…we’re not just any couple.” He paused, meeting her gaze. “We’re stronger than this.”

The café’s hum faded into a muted backdrop as they sat in silence, their hands joined on the table, their eyes locked in an exchange that words couldn’t fully capture. In this moment, it felt as though they were on the edge of something vast and unknowable, as if their promises were the only thing anchoring them against an impending storm.

Mila took a deep breath, her face relaxing into a small, tender smile. “You know, I used to think I was so independent,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But now, the thought of not having you around every day…” Her voice trailed off, and she bit her lip, the admission leaving her feeling exposed in a way she hadn’t expected.

Reiks’s heart twisted, the sincerity in her words cutting deeper than he’d anticipated. “You’re still that strong, independent woman,” he assured her, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re just…also the one person I can’t imagine my days without.” He looked down, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush, as if he hadn’t meant to reveal so much.

They sat in a silence that was both comforting and suffocating, each of them acutely aware of the clock ticking down the minutes until she’d have to go. The realization hung heavily between them, filling every unspoken word with meaning, every glance with a silent promise.