In this position, Astrid floated, returned to her Stockholm studio. Winter had given over into the beginnings of spring and budding small in the trees up and down the street indicated to her what was soon to emerge. She walked into the studio-a humble space replete with canvases and brushes and remnants of various unfinished projects:. The energy of Tokyo remained in her, and she could hardly wait to put everything into new work. Ideas seemed to buzz in her brain: cherry blossoms against building facades in Stockholm, texture capturing the contrasts she had seen everywhere in Japan. Barely aware of the time passing, she worked with strokes which were both purposeful and fluid, driven by some form of clarity she had rarely experienced in months.
She had just finished painting late one evening when her phone chimed with a message. She picked it up, her eyes wide in surprise as she saw Erik's name across the screen.
*"Hey, Astrid! Are you home? Thought I'd swing by."*
Her heart skipped a beat. *Swing by?* Surely, he didn't mean… She quickly typed back, trying not to get her hopes up, her fingers trembling.
*"I'm at the studio. Are you nearby?"*
His response came immediate. *"I'll be there in fifteen."*
The thoughts swirled in Astrid's head. It wasn't expected-there had been no talk of Erik coming to Stockholm anytime soon. She glanced at herself in the mirror, hastily wiping the smudge of paint on her cheek and running her fingers through her hair. She looked around the studio, suddenly conscious of the stacks of sketches, scattered paint tubes, and brushes lying in every corner. It was chaotic, but it was hers, and she hoped Erik would see the beauty in it.
Within what felt like a few moments, there was a soft knock at the door. She took a deep breath, her heart pounding, as she opened it to find Erik standing there, travel-worn but smiling, his eyes alight as he saw her. They stood in silence a second, almost disbelieving, before he pulled her into a warm embrace that wrapped her with familiarity in its home.
"Astrid," he whispered, drawing back far enough to look at her, "it is so good to see you."
She smiled up at him, drinking in his face as joy and relief swirled through her senses. "I just can't believe you're here. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted to surprise you," he said, the grin spreading across his face. "I missed you too much to wait any longer."
They entered the studio, and Erik took a moment to look around, admiring her latest work. His eyes fell on a canvas where she had begun blending cherry blossoms with Stockholm's skyline, her brush strokes capturing the beauty of both worlds she now carried within her. He looked at her, clearly impressed.
"You brought Tokyo back with you," he said, gesturing to the painting.
"I did," she replied with a little shyness. "It's weird; I feel like every place I go is a part of me now, and every place is a part of us."
They spent hours catching up, talking about her time in Japan, his latest projects in Paris, and the small moments they'd missed in each other's lives. She found herself laughing as Astrid was captivated by Erik's stories and the ease with which he fit back into her world. They shared takeaway sushi on the floor of her studio, sipping tea and stealing glances at each other as they talked. The intimacy of the moment made her heart ache with happiness and a lingering sadness. She knew their time was short, an exceptional pause between the incessant rhythm of airports, railway stations, and messages from afar.
Then, Erik spent a few more days in Stockholm, and the days passed together with every moment together. They visited again the places dear to their hearts: the small café where they'd shared their first date, the art museum where they had both sketched side by side, and the quiet park bench that had become their haven. They even ventured into the botanical gardens, with Astrid pointing out various plants she remembered from her own research, sending Erik laughing over her endless enthusiasm.
One evening, while strolling along the cobblestone streets of Gamla Stan, Erik's hand clasped in hers, he suddenly stopped, pulling her close. "Astrid," he said, his voice soft and serious. "I have been thinking."
She looked up at him, her heart suddenly racing. There was an intensity in his gaze that she hadn't seen before, a determination mingling with tenderness.
"I don't want us to keep living apart like this," he continued. "I don't know how yet, but… I want us to be together, not just in letters or visits. Really together."
Astrid's heart swelled. She had dreamed of this moment, but it felt almost surreal to hear the words aloud. Her eyes searched his, looking for reassurance.
"Are you sure?" she whispered. "I mean… your work in Paris, everything you've built there—"
"I'm sure," he interrupted, his voice steady. "I'll find a way to make it work. I'm willing to move, if that's what it takes, or to find a way for us both to work between cities. I just don't want to spend another day wondering when I'll see you next."
Astrid's eyes filled with tears. She had held herself back for so long, afraid to hope, afraid to expect too much. But here was Erik, offering her everything she had secretly wished for.
They returned to her apartment that evening, feeling closer than ever, as though their relationship had taken on a new weight and depth. They spent the night talking, dreaming, and scheming, exploring a possibility of a life together in ways they had never dared. The more they spoke, the more it actually felt like a reality to them. They laughed about how that studio they would share meant finally a combined life, with their works parallel.
The following days, they talked about practicalities: how he could share his time between Paris and Stockholm, exhibitions they could do together, a place where they could both have space and connect their two worlds. Erik knew people in both cities, and Astrid started to think that it just might work.
On Erik's last night in Stockholm, Astrid had arranged a quiet dinner at her studio, with candles flickering around them as they shared a simple meal, basking in the warmth of each other's presence. She had hung her recent Tokyo-inspired paintings around the room, and Erik commented on each one, marveling at the way she captured emotions he had felt so deeply.
Astrid," he whispered, as the night wore on and his hand lay upon hers, "whatever happens, I want you to know that this is real for me. You're not just a part of my life-you're everything."
Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked into his, overcome with sincerity in his gaze. "You're everything to me too, Erik.
They bade farewell the next morning at the airport, their embrace hanging in the air as they clung to each other for those final precious moments. The sterile lights and other travelers at the airport seemed to elevate the poignancy of their separation, but this time, they knew it was not goodbye. This time, they had a plan-a shared vision beyond sporadic visits and whispered promises.
As Astrid watched Erik disappear through the security gates, she felt a new sense of peace. They were finally moving toward a life together, one where distance would be just another aspect of their love, not the defining factor. She went back to her studio, her head buzzing with ideas for her art, each stroke of the brush reminding her of their time together and the life they were building.
The days following Erik's departure felt different. While she missed him, there was no longer the weight of uncertainty that had shadowed their relationship for so long. She dove into her work with a renewed focus, driven by the promise of a future where they could create side by side, a future that now felt within reach.
And with every stroke of her brush, she felt Erik was still with her, in her studio, in her art, closer to her with each passing moment.