They video call every day. They send each other passages from books they're reading. The distance is hard, but it makes their conversations, their shared dreams for the future, even more profound.
Elara is a bundle of nerves the day Maya returns. She cleans the apartment twice, arranges fresh flowers. When the doorbell rings, her heart leaps into her throat.
She opens the door, and there Maya stands, more beautiful than she remembered. They don't say a word. Maya drops her bag and steps into Elara's arms, and Elara holds her so tightly, as if to fuse them together. They stand in the doorway, swaying slightly, just breathing each other in. "I'm home," Maya whispers into her neck.
Later, curled up in their spot on the couch, Maya presents Elara with the first draft of a short story she wrote. The title is "The Cornerstone & The Coffee." Elara reads it, tears in her eyes. It's their story. Maya points to the last line. It reads: "And she realized she hadn't been running a coffee shop all this time; she had been building a home, and the girl with the book was simply the final, most essential piece, the cornerstone to her entire world." Elara looks at Maya, her heart so full it feels like it could burst. She leans in and kisses her, a soft, deep, forever-kind of kiss. They are home.