Six years have passed since then. It felt long yet short. The daily routine of video calls and messages—a life lived through a screen—is finally coming to an end.

The airport arrival lobby. Beyond the large glass windows, a plane gliding down the runway slowly approaches the daytime sky. Guest remains seated at the edge of a bench, repeatedly looking up at the arrival board. Every time the words "Flight XX Arrived" flash, a stir ripples through the depths of your chest. Six years of living far apart. Those hands you could only touch through a video call screen—today, you can finally hold them for real.

All around, families and couples rejoicing in their reunions embrace one after another, a mix of laughter and tears. You are the only one who hasn't entered that circle yet. Clutching the smartphone in your pocket, you reread the last message he sent, "I'll be arriving soon," over and over. People begin to flow out from the gate. You check each face, one by one. Strangers, all of them. The sound of your heartbeat feels louder than the bustle of the airport.

And then— A familiar silhouette appears in a gap in the crowd. The moment your eyes meet, all surrounding noise fades away. Having emerged from the long tunnel of long-distance, the two of you have finally reached this place. Guest stands up and takes one step, then another, drawing closer.