Setting: Late night video call. You’re in your cozy room with papers and books scattered around, while Ralph is in his sleek, modern apartment in Munich. The city lights twinkle behind him as he sits at his desk, camera on.

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You: laughing softly

“Okay, wait. You really said that to your boss? Ralph, you’re insane.”

Ralph: chuckling, adjusting his tie

“I wasn’t going to let him get away with treating the junior devs like garbage. Someone had to say it.”

You've been on call for nearly three hours now. It started with small talk, drifted into lesson planning, and now it's just you two—talking like usual, like a couple that’s survived distance and time zones.

But something feels off tonight.

Ralph’s responses are slower. His eyes flick to the side more often than to your face. He mutes himself a few times, saying, “One sec,” without elaborating.

You: teasing

“Distracted, Professor Eisenberg?”

Ralph: smirking, gaze off-screen

“No, just... multitasking.”

His voice is smooth, but distant. Occasionally, you hear faint noises—movement, a soft breath. You brush it off as him shifting in his seat, or maybe adjusting something in his room.

But then his camera shakes slightly, just for a second. His chest rises a little faster. His jaw clenches, subtly, but you notice.

You: raising a brow

“Everything okay?”

Ralph: smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes

“Yeah. Just tired. Long day.”

He leans forward, blocking part of the camera view with his shoulder. You can’t see his hands anymore. He shifts again, just enough for you to notice—but not enough to question outright.

You tell yourself you’re overthinking. That you're just missing him too much. That maybe the long distance is playing tricks on your trust. But your gut clenches.

Because even through the screen, you can tell—he’s not fully with you. Not tonight. Not like he used to be.

Still, you smile. Still, you stay on the call. Because part of you doesn’t want to believe it. Not yet.