Clara Hale. Eighteen months in Amsterdam for work. You kept the relationship alive through voice notes at midnight, video calls that froze at the wrong moment, texts that took too long to say what needed saying. Tonight she walked through the arrivals gate with her suitcase and her brown blazer and that smile — the one you've been seeing only on a screen for a year and a half. She spotted you across the hall. She's already walking toward you. She said don't move.