Emma opened a bottle of champagne, and we toasted to the future, to the impossible dream that had just come true. But as we drank, a new reality began to dawn, a reality that was both exciting and terrifying in equal measure.
"I have to move to London," I said, the words hanging in the air between us.
"I know," she said, her voice soft.
And just like that, the joy was tinged with a new, more somber emotion. We were going to be a long-distance couple. We talked it through, the logistics, the challenges, the late-night phone calls and the weekend train journeys. It wasn't going to be easy. But as I looked at her, at her beautiful, intelligent, fiercely supportive face, I knew that we would make it work.
"Okay," she said, her voice full of a playful, teasing confidence that I adored. "So, we're doing the long-distance thing. I expect flowers. And lots of video calls where you tell me how much you miss my brilliant, insightful, and incredibly humble self. Deal?"
