The Midterm Slump finally ended. Exams were over, papers were submitted, and a collective sigh of relief echoed across university campuses. The crushing pressure eased, leaving behind exhaustion but also a newfound sense of freedom and accomplishment. For our long-distance relationship, surviving the slump felt like overcoming a significant hurdle.
With our schedules opening up slightly, communication became easier again. Calls were longer, texts were more frequent, and the easy flow of conversation slowly returned. We talked about our exams, our grades (tentatively, for me; Sakura was more private about hers, typical of the Todai pressure), and the sheer relief of having made it through.
"I think I slept for 12 hours straight," I texted Sakura the morning after my last exam.
Sakura: Lucky! Only got 8! 😂 But felt like a million bucks! Congratulations, Hiroshi! You survived the slump! 💪
"You too, Sakura!" I replied. "Especially at Todai! You're amazing!"
We celebrated our survival in our own ways, miles apart. Maybe a nice meal alone in our respective cities, or a relaxing evening watching a movie "together" on a video call.
The end of the slump allowed us to reconnect properly, to share the experiences we had bottled up during the intense study period. We talked about the challenges, the moments of doubt, the sheer exhaustion.
"There were some days," Sakura admitted during a call, her voice soft, "when I just... I didn't think I could keep going. With the studying. And with... us. It felt like too much."
My heart ached hearing her admit that vulnerability. "I felt that too, Sakura," I confessed. "Thinking... is this sustainable? Is it too hard?"
She was silent for a moment. "But... we did it, Hiroshi," she said, her voice firmer. "We got through it. Even when we barely talked. Even when we were completely stressed."
"Yeah," I said, smiling. "We did."
Surviving the Midterm Slump together, even from afar, felt like a validation of our commitment. It proved that our bond could withstand periods of intense pressure and limited communication. It required trust and understanding, and we had, for the most part, managed it.
However, the slump also highlighted the inherent difficulties of long-distance during peak stress. It showed where the cracks could appear, where the doubts could creep in.
One evening, after a particularly long and comfortable call where we talked about everything and nothing, a quiet moment fell between us.
Sakura's voice, when she finally spoke, was soft and hesitant. "Hiroshi-kun... can I ask you something?"
"Yeah, anything, Sakura," I replied, feeling a slight sense of apprehension from her tone.
"Do you... do you ever regret it?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
My heart pounded. Regret what? The long-distance? Our relationship?
She clarified, her voice a little stronger. "Regret... choosing this? Choosing to make us work... even with the distance? When it gets really hard... like during midterms... do you ever think... maybe it would have been easier... if we hadn't?"
The question hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. It was the fear that lurked beneath the surface of every long-distance relationship, voiced directly. She wasn't asking if I regretted her. She was asking if I regretted the difficulty.
It required complete honesty.
"No, Sakura," I said, my voice firm and sincere. "Never."
She was silent.
"It's hard, yes," I continued. "And during midterms... yeah, there were moments when I was so stressed and tired, I questioned everything. But regret this?" I emphasized the word. "Regret us? Never."
I took a deep breath. "Every difficult moment, every missed call, every stressful day... it's all worth it. Because it's with you. Because you're worth it."
I waited, listening to her quiet breathing on the other end of the line. Had I said the right thing? Had I reassured her?
Then, softly, her voice filled with emotion, "Thank you, Hiroshi. Thank you for saying that."
A small, shaky sigh of relief came through the line.
"I don't regret it either, Hiroshi-kun," she said, her voice gaining strength. "Even when it's the hardest thing I've ever done... I don't regret us."
Her question, born from the stress of the slump, was a significant test of our commitment. Answering it honestly, and hearing her own honest answer, solidified our bond once more. The "Midterm Slump" was over, but the lessons learned, and the questions asked, would carry us forward into the next phase of navigating our unexpected love story across the miles. The test of time was ongoing, and our answer, though difficult at times, remained clear.