Across Oceans, Always Yours

Dear Maya,

As I sit here with nothing but the sound of the rain tapping against the windowpane and your photo tucked between the pages of my favorite book, I find myself writing this letter to you—my way of collapsing the thousands of miles between us.

You’re probably asleep right now, eight hours ahead of me, where the moonlight kisses your cheeks instead of me. I wonder, do you still curl your toes under the blanket the way you used to? Do you still fall asleep with your hand under your chin and your dreams full of laughter and light?

Long-distance love is not easy. Whoever said, “Distance makes the heart grow fonder” never mentioned the ache that comes with it. It’s not just the absence of your touch, Maya. It’s the absence of your presence in everyday things—the quiet coffee mornings, the late-night walks, the small silences where your eyes said more than words ever could.

I remember the first day you left. You had your passport in one hand and tears in your eyes. You tried to be brave for both of us. I tried too. I smiled, kissed your forehead, and told you to chase your dreams. And you did. I was proud, still am. But every step you took on foreign soil felt like a ripple in my world. I kept telling myself it was only temporary. That love like ours could survive anything. That the string between us—however stretched—would never break.

We’ve built a relationship on faith and Wi-Fi. We’ve learned to say “I love you” through pixels, to blow kisses into microphones and feel each other’s laughter through the screen. And yet, I miss the smell of your perfume on my shirt, the warmth of your hand in mine. I miss being near enough to notice when your smile is genuine and when it’s just armor.

You once asked me what I feared most in this distance, and I never really answered. Maybe I was afraid you’d think I didn’t trust you. But the truth is, my greatest fear has never been losing you. It’s forgetting how it felt to be close to you. It’s the fear that someday I might not remember the exact shade of your laugh, or the way your eyes light up when you talk about your dreams.

But Maya, despite all of this, I want you to know: I have never stopped choosing you. Not once. Not in the lonely hours of the night or in the crowded spaces of my day. Every time my phone lights up and your name appears, my world shrinks into something beautiful. Even in silence, we’ve spoken volumes. Even in absence, you’ve been here.

Do you remember that promise we made? That no matter where we are, we’d watch the same moon and talk to the same stars? I still do that. Some nights I sit on the rooftop and whisper things into the sky, hoping the wind carries them to you. And on the rare occasions when time zones align and we talk like time has no rules, I feel whole again—even if just for a while.

Sometimes, people ask me how I manage it—how I live so far away from the one person I want to be closest to. I just smile and say, “Because she’s worth it.” And you are. Every second, every mile, every lonely heartbeat.

I know we have our days—when calls drop, messages delay, or we just miss each other so hard it hurts. But if love is about waiting, about staying, about fighting for something no one else can see but you—then I think we’re doing it right. We’re not just in a long-distance relationship. We are proof that real love isn’t about proximity. It’s about presence. And you, Maya, are always present in my heart.

There will come a day—soon, I hope—when this letter won’t be needed. When I can say all this while looking into your eyes, not across a screen. When I can hold you and let silence speak again. Until then, my words are yours, my heart is yours, my love is endlessly yours.

Keep chasing your dreams, but don’t forget—we have a dream too. A dream of home, of togetherness, of days that don’t start or end with “I miss you.” And when that day comes, we’ll look back at these months, maybe even years, and say, “We made it.”

So here’s my letter to you, across the oceans and the hours. A simple reminder that no distance is too great, no time too long, when two hearts speak the same language.

With all the love I have,
Aarav