Distance isn't measured in miles—it's measured in all the small moments you can't share.
By the end of week two, Ethan had established a routine.
Wake up at 5:45 AM. Coffee and a banana. Catch the 6:30 bus to avoid the worst of morning traffic. Arrive at TechVenture by 7:45. Work until 6:00 PM. Catch the bus home. Arrive at the apartment by 7:15. Make dinner—usually pasta or rice with whatever vegetables were cheapest that week. Video call Vanessa at 8:30 PM Pacific, 11:30 PM Eastern. Work on code or read documentation until midnight. Sleep. Repeat.
It was exhausting but manageable.
The project was going well. Team Seven had made solid progress on the screen reader prototype—Ethan had handled most of the backend development while Maya focused on the UI and the others worked on testing and documentation.
"You're really good at this," Maya said on Friday afternoon as they reviewed his code. "Like, really good. This architecture is clean."
"Thanks."
"No, seriously. I've worked with a lot of programmers, and most of them write functional code that's a mess under the hood. Yours is elegant. Efficient." She looked at him curiously. "Where'd you learn to code?"
"Self-taught, mostly. Started when I was twelve with online tutorials. Then took classes in high school and college."
"Self-taught?" Maya's eyebrows went up. "That's impressive. Most people who are self-taught have weird gaps in their knowledge or bad habits. You don't."
"I had a good teacher in high school who corrected my bad habits early."
"Well, whoever they were, they did a great job." Maya closed her laptop. "Hey, a bunch of us are going out for dinner tonight. This new Thai place in Palo Alto. You should come."
Ethan's chest tightened. "I can't. I've got—I have plans."
"Come on. It's Friday. What plans could you possibly have?"
*Eating cheap pasta alone and video calling my girlfriend*, Ethan thought.
"Just stuff I need to do. But thanks."
"You always say no." Maya's tone was more curious than accusatory. "You've turned down every group dinner, every happy hour, every weekend hangout. Are we that terrible?"
"No, it's not that—"
"Then what is it? Because you're missing out on half the internship experience. The networking, the relationships—that stuff matters."
"I know. I just—" Ethan searched for an excuse that wasn't *I can't afford it*. "I'm in a long-distance relationship. I like to keep my evenings free to call my girlfriend."
It wasn't entirely a lie.
"Oh! You have a girlfriend. That makes sense." Maya smiled. "Is it serious?"
"Very."
"That's sweet. Well, offer stands if you ever want to join us. And bring your girlfriend next time she visits."
After Maya left, Ethan sat at his desk and felt the familiar weight of isolation settle over him.
Everyone else was going out. Building friendships. Having the full Silicon Valley intern experience.
And he was going home to eat alone.
That night's call with Vanessa was harder than usual.
She looked tired—dark circles under her eyes, her hair pulled back in a messy bun.
"Long day?" Ethan asked.
"Yeah. Your sister had a meltdown this afternoon about college applications. She's convinced she's going to end up at community college because her grades aren't good enough."
"Her grades are fine."
"I know. But she's stressed. And your mom had a follow-up appointment today that ran late, so I picked up Lily from school and helped her start working on her college essay."
"You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to. But Ethan, I'm exhausted. Between the community center three days a week, helping your family, and trying to keep up with summer coursework, I feel like I'm drowning."
"What summer coursework?"
"I'm taking an online class. Literature seminar. I didn't tell you because you already have enough to worry about."
Ethan felt guilt wash over him. "Vanessa—"
"It's fine. I'm managing. I just—" She rubbed her eyes. "I miss you. Like, really miss you. It's only been two weeks and it already feels like forever."
"I miss you too."
"How's the internship?"
"Good. We're making good progress on the project."
"And the roommates?"
"Fine. David's cool. Marcus is loud but harmless. James barely talks."
"Are you making friends?"
"Some. My teammate Maya is nice."
"Maya?" Vanessa's tone shifted slightly. "Tell me about her."
"She's from Berkeley. Computer science. Really talented programmer. She keeps inviting me to group dinners and I keep saying no."
"Why do you keep saying no?"
Because I can't afford it, Ethan thought. Because a single dinner out costs more than I budget for food in three days.
"Because I'd rather spend my evenings talking to you," he said instead.
It wasn't a complete lie. But it wasn't the whole truth either.
"Ethan, you should go. Build relationships. Network. That's part of why you're there."
"I know."
"Then why don't you?"
"I just—I'm tired after work. And the commute is long. By the time I get home, I don't have energy for socializing."
Vanessa studied him through the screen. "Are you sure that's all it is?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"I don't know. You just seem—stressed. More than usual."
"It's a stressful program."
"Ethan—"
"I'm fine, Vanessa. Really. Just adjusting."
She didn't look convinced, but she let it drop.
They talked for another hour—about Lily's college stress, about Sarah's clean follow-up appointment, about the kids at the community center.
When they finally said goodnight, Ethan felt more alone than before the call.
Saturday morning, Ethan walked to the grocery store.
The nearest one was a Whole Foods—expensive but close. There was a cheaper store about two miles away, but he'd only discovered it after spending too much his first week.
He had a carefully calculated list: rice, beans, pasta, eggs, bread, peanut butter, bananas, whatever vegetables were on sale.
Total budget: $45 for the week.
He was loading his basket when he heard a familiar voice.
"Ethan? Hey!"
He turned to see Maya pushing a cart full of fresh produce, expensive cheese, craft beer.
"Oh. Hi."
"Doing your shopping?" She glanced at his basket—sparse and obviously budget-conscious. "Wow, you eat healthy. Very minimalist."
"Yeah. I try to keep it simple."
"I should do that. I always overbuy." She gestured at her overflowing cart. "But I love cooking, so I can't help myself."
They walked to the checkout together, making awkward small talk.
Maya's total: $187.
Ethan's total: $43.
"See you Monday!" Maya said cheerfully as they parted ways.
Ethan walked home carrying his two small bags, feeling the difference between their lives more acutely than ever.
Maya could spend $187 on groceries without thinking about it.
He'd carefully calculated every item to stay under $45.
She could afford craft beer and expensive cheese.
He was trying to figure out if he could make rice and beans stretch for four dinners instead of three.
They were both interns in the same program, doing the same work.
But they were living in completely different worlds.
Sunday afternoon, Ethan was working on code in his room when David knocked.
"Hey, some of us are ordering pizza and watching a movie. You want in?"
"Thanks, but I'm good."
"Come on, man. You never hang out. It's pizza and a movie, not a commitment."
"I've got work to do—"
"On a Sunday?" David crossed his arms. "Ethan, is everything okay? You've been here two weeks and you basically live like a hermit. You don't socialize, you don't join us for meals, you leave early and come home late. Are we doing something wrong?"
"No, it's not you—"
"Then what is it? Because Marcus thinks you're stuck up, and James thinks you're antisocial, and I just think something's going on that you're not telling us."
Ethan set down his laptop. "I'm not stuck up or antisocial. I'm just—I have stuff going on. Family stuff. A long-distance girlfriend. I'm trying to focus on work."
"Okay, but you can focus on work and still be human. You can still eat pizza with your roommates occasionally." David's tone softened. "Look, I'm not trying to give you a hard time. I'm just saying—this internship is intense enough without isolating yourself. We could be your friends if you let us."
"I'll think about it."
"That's all I'm asking." David headed for the door, then stopped. "Oh, and Ethan? If you ever need to talk—about whatever's going on—I'm around. No judgment."
After David left, Ethan sat in the quiet room and felt the walls closing in.
He'd been here two weeks.
Ten more to go.
And he was already exhausted, lonely, and running out of ways to hide the fact that he was struggling.
That night's call with Vanessa was brief.
"You sound tired," she said.
"I am."
"Bad day?"
"Just long. How are things there?"
"Good. Your mom and I made dinner together—she taught me how to make her pasta sauce. Lily actually helped instead of hiding in her room. It was nice."
"That's good."
"Ethan, are you okay? You've been really quiet lately."
"I'm fine. Just tired."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
Vanessa sighed. "Okay. Well, I love you."
"I love you too."
After they hung up, Ethan lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.
Two weeks down.
Ten to go.
And already, he was lying to the person he loved most.
Not big lies. Just small omissions.
Not telling her he couldn't afford to eat out with his coworkers.
Not telling her he was skipping lunch sometimes to save money.
Not telling her he felt like he was drowning in a world he didn't belong to.
Just small lies of omission.
Because he didn't want her to worry.
Because he didn't want to admit he was struggling.
Because he'd promised his mother he wouldn't destroy himself for this internship.
And he was already breaking that promise.