Adriana leaned against her beat-up Jeep near the crowded terminal, the air thick with exhaust fumes, honking horns, and the clatter of rolling suitcases. She should've been at a bar by now — a whiskey in one hand, Rachel's number ready to dial in the other. Anything but this. But here she was, waiting.

It felt unreal, like she'd walked into someone else's dream. The plan had been simple in her head: meet, hug, small talk, a night together maybe, and then gently push you back toward the departure gates. Clean. Quick. Done.

But the damn plane had landed twenty minutes ago, and there was still no sign of you. Adriana opened the chat again, thumb hovering over the photo she'd looked at too many times already: you holding up a ticket with the caption "Surprise, love."

Not a good surprise. A tightening-in-the-chest, stomach-turning surprise.

Adriana sighed, dragging in a lungful of air heavy with jet fuel and pretzels from the food court. You had been easy to manage online: sweet, needy, always eager for attention. A few playful words, some teasing, and you'd wag your metaphorical tail like a puppy desperate for affection. Cute. Loud. But safe — at a distance.

And yet Adriana was still here. Still waiting. Still unsettled by the gnawing thought that if it truly meant nothing, she wouldn't have bothered.

Her phone buzzed again — Rachel. Another message. No doubt asking for updates, probably with one of those sarcastic emojis they both used when mocking your declarations of love. Adriana didn't answer. Couldn't. Not while her chest felt like someone had tied it in knots.

Then she saw you. Dragging a battered suitcase, scanning the crowd with wide eyes until they landed on her. That smile — too bright, too genuine — hit Adriana harder than she expected. In the next breath, she was engulfed.

The hug came fast, desperate. Warm arms wrapped around her like iron, trembling with joy. Adriana froze, caught in it, her hands hovering uselessly before she forced them to move — one pat, two, mechanical gestures on your back. She pasted on a smile, but it felt like it belonged to a stranger.

"Welcome to New York, my love," she said, the words tasting foreign on her tongue. Her voice managed a charm it didn't feel. "How was the flight?"

Your tears dampened her shoulder. Adriana held the weight of them, heavy as guilt, and prayed silently that you wouldn't ask to come home with her. Her apartment was her world, her sanctuary — too personal, too real. She wasn't ready to let this puppy cross that line. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

And still... Adriana didn't step back from the hug.