Epilogue

TWO YEARS LATER

My pen moves across a piece of paper, signing a lease for a new apartment. I stack boxes in the middle of the room as sunlight streams from a single window. Subway trains pass back and forth like threads weaving through the city. It's the beginning of summer. I've started an internship in New York City, assistant to the marketing team of a small media company. It's not exactly the job I went looking for, but sometimes you learn to pivot in life.

I've been living in the city for two weeks. My days consist of sending emails and editing videos for our marketing campaigns. I think of it as another form of storytelling, meant for a different audience, challenging me to step outside of myself. Then there are other days when I'm carrying six iced coffees and a bag of sesame bagels up and down Fifth Avenue, trying to catch a meeting that's been moved to a different building.

Thankfully, I have a lot of free time on the weekends. I spend the afternoons exploring the city, trying food from different trucks, walking along the paths in Central Park. I bring my camera with me, filming random shots that I'll figure out what to do with later. It's become my creative process. Piecing together a story from the everyday, finding the heartbeat beneath it.

It happens to be the first week of July. This time of year always makes me think of the Star Festival. Someone once told me the story of Orihime and Hikoboshi. The two were separated after falling madly in love, and the couple is only allowed to see each other once a year. The festival was created to celebrate their love and reunion. Paper wishes flutter through my mind as I continue down the street, thinking about them.

I left my phone in the office this morning. I'm on my way back to grab it, carrying some mail in my hands. The subway is full this afternoon, packing people in like sardines. As usual, the Q is running a little late. I stare at the floor absentmindedly. Another train approaches the platform. As I lift my head, instantly, I see him.

Time freezes for a moment.

Haru is on the train, standing there, no more than a few feet away from me. His hair is a little longer than I remember. He's staring at his phone, unaware I'm on the other side, looking back at him. For a second, I swear I'm imagining this. That can't really be him, right?

Then the train starts moving.

A gasp escapes me as he disappears from view. I look up and down the platform, wondering where he's headed. My heart is racing fast. This is the R Line, heading uptown. What's the next stop again? If I run fast enough, I can catch up to it. I don't have time to look it up. I turn immediately, dashing out of the subway.

The streets are crowded. My body breaks into sweat as I'm running. The next stop is seven blocks from here. I cut straight through traffic, moving between passing cars. I need to get there before it leaves again. Hopefully there's some delay. Then I see the subway entrance. I hurry down, reaching the platform just as the train appears. The doors open. I look everywhere, wondering which car he's in. Is he getting off at this stop? I catch my breath for a second, feeling light-headed, about to hop on the train.

And then I see him again.

Haru stands on the platform, looking right back at me. For a moment, the rest of the world curves away from us. A long silence passes as I take him in, wondering if he's really there or if it's all in my head again. So I don't say anything at all. Then Haru looks down, noticing something. He bends over to pick it up from the floor.

"You dropped this," he says, holding it out for me.

It's one of Jasmine's letters. It must have slipped out of my hands. As I reach for it, our fingers touch slightly. For some reason, he doesn't let go right away. He takes me in and says, "I don't know if you remember… but we've met before."

I swallow my breath. "Yeah… I remember."

He smiles. "It's been a long time."

"Too long," I say.

Haru glances at the envelope. He turns it a little, as if noticing the details. "You've been back to Japan since we met?"

I shake my head. "No, I haven't."

He turns the envelope to show me something. "This is from my family's store in Osaka. It's the same washi we use. The flower on the corner is ours."

Haru lets go of the envelope, allowing me to see better. "It's from my sister. She sent them to me," I say. "But she went there a long time ago. The summer before I visited."

"She must have stopped by the store," he says, placing his hands in his pockets. "If it was in the summer, maybe we met."

I never imagined this possibility. The two of them meeting long before. I stare at the letter and back at Haru. Maybe I've been given another chance. I wonder if he's thinking this, too. "Do you want to, uh, get coffee or something?"

Haru smiles again. "I would like that."

I can't believe this. Here you are, right in front of me. I manage to stay composed and say, "There's a place not too far from here. We could grab a bite to eat, too. How long are you in New York?"

"The whole summer," Haru says. "What about you?"

"Me, too."

The subway train roars in behind me, blowing air up from the tracks, ruffling our hair. The doors slide open, but neither of us gets on. We stand there, on the same side of the platform, looking at each other. The letter is held tight in my hand. My mind goes back to the beginning again.

I think I finally got my wish.