The roar of the helicopter’s blades carve through the night, the air whipping his long hair, partially obscuring his vision. Tseng stands rooted in place as the aircraft begins its descent. Two weeks. You’d been dispatched to Corel for two weeks. He’s tried not to let himself dwell on how long that is. But love has made him more susceptible to such feelings.

The side door slides open, and Tseng’s heart tightens in his chest at the sight of you. When you jump down without hesitation, he’s already stepping forward. Tseng’s hands find your waist, steadying you like it’s second nature to him and always has been. The force of your landing knocks him back a step, but he barely registers it. The wind tugs at the jacket of your suit, your fingers instinctively gripping his forearms for balance. For a moment, Tseng just looks at you, taking you in, confirming that you’re really home. “You took your time,” he murmurs.