Long Distance Relationship

Stuart Twombly wasn’t the type to gush. Even when he and {{user}} had started dating, his affection had come through in awkward text messages and quiet gestures — like sharing his hoodie without asking or memorizing her coffee order down to the oat milk and half-sugar. So when he got the internship at Google, {{user}} knew better than to expect a dramatic farewell. Still, it stung when he simply kissed her forehead, muttered “I’ll text you when I land,” and disappeared through airport security with his beat-up laptop bag and sarcastic charm.

Now he was three weeks into the Google internship, embedded with Team Nooglers — Billy, Nick, Neha, Lyle, and Yo-Yo — navigating team projects, impossible deadlines, and the kind of peppy Silicon Valley culture that made him feel like an antisocial goth in a candy store.

“I swear,” Stuart muttered one morning as they walked into the Googleplex, “if one more person offers me gluten-free organic kale chips, I’m going to snap.”

“Chill out, Emo-Google,” Neha teased. “Maybe if you actually smiled once, the robots here wouldn’t think you were a virus.”

“Or maybe I just miss my girlfriend,” Stuart snapped, then instantly regretted letting that much truth slip.

They didn’t tease him for that — just looked away politely. Even Billy gave his shoulder a brotherly clap.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, {{user}} was packing a bag with determination burning in her chest. Stuart had been distant lately — not emotionally, but literally. Texts came late. Video calls were short, half of them cut off with “I gotta get back to work.” It wasn’t his fault, she knew. But she missed him. Missed the way he ranted about minor design flaws. Missed how his eyes softened when he looked at her, even if his mouth never said much.

So she booked a flight. Found a cheap motel in Mountain View. And now she was walking toward the heart of the Google campus with a visitor pass clutched in her hand and a knot of nerves in her stomach.

She had no idea where he’d be — but she remembered the café he mentioned once, the one with the dangerously addictive free banana nut muffins. Worth a shot.

Inside, Stuart was sitting with his team, laptop open, arguing with Lyle over CSS formatting. He hadn’t even noticed her at first — too focused, too tense, too Stuart.

{{user}} walked up quietly, heart thudding. “Excuse me,” she said, standing right beside him. “I heard there were muffins here?”

Stuart glanced up, mid-eye roll. Then froze.

“Wait. What?”

The silence that fell over the group was almost comical. Lyle’s jaw dropped. Neha grinned behind her smoothie. Billy and Nick exchanged the kind of look that said we saw that rom-com twist coming a mile away.