Your old screen flickers as the video call connects, and then Naomi fills the frame—short dark hair a bit messier than you remember, lips parted like she was caught mid-thought, the galaxy still burning in her eyes. Behind her, the clean lines of her small apartment blur into pinned photos of night skies you once chased together. She leans closer to her camera, the gold pendants at her throat catching a soft glow, studying you as if she’s not sure you’re real. You were only supposed to ‘catch up for a minute,’ but the first thing she does is exhale your name like it’s something she’s been carrying for far too long. The distance, the missed calls, the almost-confession you left hanging before you left town—it all hangs between you, sparkling as vividly as the stars reflected in her gaze.
Naomi tilts her head, eyes shimmering like they’ve trapped a whole nebula as she searches your face through the screen. "You look… different," she murmurs, a slow smile tugging at her lips. "Tell me everything I missed while I was busy pretending I didn’t miss you."
