The earth seemed to have responded to the rift between them and sent an icy breeze their way every few moments, deep enough of a chill that her trusty denim jacket didn't suffice.

If there was one thing Talia wouldn't miss about New England, it was certainly the whiplash-inducing weather.

Both chairs before them remained unoccupied, some testament to their discomfort as they stood on opposite ends of the deck, she with her back to the locked glass door, he with a wary grip on the wooden railing behind him. Talia found herself traveling back to that first night in the dark, when she'd crept into his room with all the reluctance she'd soon throw out the window.

"I could keep you warm," he'd uttered without thinking, not knowing he hadn't had to take his words back.

Because there was no place warmer than his arms.

"It's my fault that you think the worst of me right now," Zaid said steadily, "because I didn't give you the full picture last night."

She tightened her arms over her front, looking away. "If you're just going to pour some more salt on a wound, spare your breath."

He pursed his lips, imploring her to listen with his hard stare. "Talia, please. Give me your attention just for a moment." She lifted her head and faced him at the polite request. "If you saw me glued to my phone as we were eating cake yesterday, I was texting my family. My grandfather, Nabil, he had a bad health scare and was admitted to the hospital, but I didn't receive any updates on his condition until this morning."

Her eyes widened, taking in his distress. "Is he alright?"

He nodded, running a hand over the back of his head. "He's recovering at home, though it'll be a couple weeks before he's back on his feet. But before I knew the better prognosis, my world—God, everything just went black for a moment." A heavy breath escaped his lips, blending in with the wind. "The thought of my mother losing a third person so close to her—to all of us—had me rethinking every one of my decisions. What would I be doing here if everything was about to fall apart again? And where... Where would you fit into that reality?"

The last of the ice encasing Talia's heart melted away. But she still didn't trust her mouth to be in line with it, so she drew her lips together and let him keep talking, as he'd wished.

"I don't think anyone thinks rationally in times like these. But given that I'd gone as far as preparing myself to buy a one-way plane ticket to another funeral, I needed some way to make our parting less painful." He looked back into her eyes, his own clouded with guilt. "For me, that is. I guess I forgot all about the hurt selfish people inflict."

"You're not selfish," she whispered, before she could bite her tongue.

"Selfless people don't make a pretty girl cry herself to sleep." She froze in place, heart racing as she deliberated how he knew. He took a step forward, the click from dress shoes against wood sounding like thunder in the quietude. "Your eyes are still puffy, Talia."

Her fingers covered her face on instinct, digging into her cold cheeks. "Maybe I just have allergies."

"It's January."

"Yeah..."

A small bout of silence followed until he broke it again with another sigh. "Look, either way, I'm not expecting anything, other than for you not to write this story off as some pathetic fabrication to win back your affection."

"I know you wouldn't lie about something like this. I just... I don't know how telling me the truth solves the real problem."

"And what would that be?"

She swallowed. "That our lives do belong to different parts of the world. Hopefully, your grandfather makes a full recovery, but what about the other unexpected hardships that life throws our way? Even if you do settle down here... I don't know if I can be with someone who could move halfway across the world at any given time. Or always be thinking about everything he misses, especially when I don't want to be the one to take it away from you."

"I'm not usually that rash of a decision maker," Zaid defended, but she shook her head.

"It's not my right to stop you either. Family goes before everything, especially in our culture. So, maybe now... Now, I should let you go, until you can figure out where you need to be—in your own time."

"No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "Don't say that, Talia."

She scoffed, knowing people were all hypocrites at heart. "I think you get why my eyes look like that, then." The last trickle of moisture raced down her face and plopped onto her shoe below. She looked up with the little resolve she had left. "But at least I mean everything I say, Zaid."

At her assertion, he came to life, closing the last of the gap between them.

"You know, I wouldn't have lied yesterday," he said, looking into the eyes he'd ruined, "if I hadn't already fallen in love with you."

Apparently, that was all he had to say for her world to become warm again. The word love felt as unnatural as this sixty-degree January day, but she hadn't realized how badly she'd needed them both until they'd appeared without warning.

And goddamn, they felt so good—good enough that she cried all over again.

"Come here," he breathed, but she didn't have to go anywhere.

Zaid leaned down and embraced her like she was his only lifeline, not knowing only then did she take in her first real breath of the day. When Talia let go, a damp spot appeared in the middle of his crisp dress shirt, an imprint of her cheek.

She tried laughing off the awkwardness. "Can I ask? Why are you dressed like that?"

He looked down, as if forgetting what he was even wearing. "Oh. I was just at an interview for a summer internship."

"Summer internship where?"

"Where else?" he asked. "Boston."

"So, wait... I thought you already agreed to work with your brother this summer?"

"Who says I can't do both? Only in college do you get four months off to do whatever the hell you want."

"Does that include seeing my face? Not through a screen, that is."

"Only if you meet me halfway," he said—literally and figuratively. "I like your idea of making this city our happy medium: a perfect blend of East and West."

"Well, technically, it's just the East."

"To you," he said.

He staved off the inevitable back and forth with a warm kiss before time became their killjoy. Begrudgingly pulling away from his body, Talia checked the time on her phone: half past noon.

"Crap," she hissed. "I have to get going soon. My grandfather will be waiting for me in fifteen minutes."

"How about I drive you, instead? I'm heading back to the city anyway."

Taking him up on his offer, she hurried back inside to say her last goodbyes to her grandparents, preparing herself for the inevitably heart-wrenching experience that was parting ways with Teta Salma.

"Oh God, I'm going to miss you so much, habibti."

One minute later, she was suffocating in her arms, worried she'd snap her in half if she squeezed her back with the same vigor. Patting her back, Talia heard about ten variations of the same sentiment before her grandmother released her, which really meant keeping her at arm's-length while urging her to eat more.

Talia pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Thank you so much, Teta."

"For what?"

She broke into a stupid grin. "For not telling me that asshole was going to be here."

Before Teta could sing Zaid's praises in retaliation, Talia ran to find her grandfather, who was logging out of a conference call in his office.

"Remember, kiddo," he said, mid-hug. "One year maximum, or I'll have your father's head."

With another ten goodbyes to her grandmother and a fierce battle with the zipper of her suitcase, Talia emerged a new person in the driveway. Zaid leaned against the trunk of his silver sedan, eyes lighting up as she ambled towards him.

His hands hovered over her suitcase. "Let me get that for you."

"Uh, you might wanna—"

Talia bit the inside of her cheek as he hauled it up, watching the veins pop out of his wrists. With a thud that rattled the car, he dropped the suitcase into place and then slammed the trunk shut.

Staring at his bright-red palm, he grumbled, "What the hell is in that thing?"

Only half of Teta's pantry and an entire Aritzia store.

They climbed into their seats, but he didn't start the engine right away. Resting his head on the black leather seat, he took a moment to absorb the last of her features, reaching out a hand to caress her cheek.

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

Zaid trusted she would do as he said, despite her confusion, and leaned over his chair to grab something from the backseat. Eyes shut, she heard the rustle of a bag and then what sounded like a box popping open.

"Face the other way for a moment."

She shifted as best as she could in the narrow seat and stared out the window. Something cool met the sides of her neck, distinct from the fingers that gently skimmed the sensitive skin there. She looked down, but the necklace was just short enough that she couldn't discern its style without a mirror.

His lips were at her ear as he murmured, "Now you can never forget how to spell your name."

When she looked into the sun visor mirror, she made out a gold chain, the Arabic letter ta engraved into the pendant in the middle.

"It's beautiful, Zaid," she breathed, running her fingers down the chain. "Gosh, now these two dots will haunt me everywhere I go."

As he laughed in victory, she bent down and pulled something out from her purse on the floor. If not for his gift, she would have forgotten to give him the leather-bound journal she'd bought on her shopping escapade with her grandmother.

"I figured this is the perfect size for the writing you like," she told him, pushing it into his hand. Cracking a lame joke, she continued, "A love letter was sort of out of my domain, but I did write out a nice linear algebra crash course near the beginning."

In reality, math was far too ugly for this notebook: empty, save for the portrait she'd refused to let him see, now tucked somewhere in its one-hundred-ninety-two pages.

He smiled and promised to do it justice.

Talia took in the last of this state as they headed east, admiring the evergreens and wiry maples and the drivers who didn't deserve their licenses. The small traffic jam on the Mass Pike was an odd relief, letting them fill in the wait with light conversation.

When they pulled up to the terminal, the pill of their parting became toughest to swallow. Travelers filed in and out, some laughing with family, others barking into cell phones, and some looked just like Talia: frozen in place.

Zaid pulled her out of her musing, opening his door. "The security lines have been pretty bad lately. You should probably get going."

She nodded in reluctance and gathered her things. It was hard to hear each other over the surrounding clamor, so he pulled her close and pushed something into her hands.

"For the flight home."

Her arms sagged as he let go, weighed down by a dense book. "Collected Works of Khalil Gibran," she read the title out loud, cracking the cover open. This anthology had to have been at least six-hundred pages, putting her hefty calculus textbooks to shame. Laughing, she added, "Did you think I was flying to Australia?"

A playful smile toyed on his lips, one she didn't quite understand. "You'll have plenty of time to get through it, Talia."

After finally exchanging numbers, completing the mind-numbing process of checking in her bags, and then stalling in the security line—a good seventy heads before her—she pulled the book out of her purse. As she gave the table of contents a quick glance, something sharp poked her fingertips.

She tilted the book to the side, and a piece of paper slid out from the middle and landed on the tiled floor.

"Here you go, ma'am."

The thick Texas accent made her head pop up, but the man disappeared before she could thank him. The envelope in her two hands was the size of a postcard, but the note scrawled on the back dampened any of her enthusiasm.

Open after a minimum of one semester of Arabic.

"Goddammit, Zaid," Talia grumbled, understanding what he'd meant earlier.

Oh, and by the way, I'll know if you don't.

Good luck, my favorite little xenophobe.