September 2023 - Long Nights, Screens, and One Last Walk Through New York Together

September felt like a month of contrast. It started with us together, walking side by side through New York, and slowly shifted back into distance, routines, and screens; but the closeness we built never really left.

In the very first days of September, New York felt like ours. One night, after everything had quieted down, we went for a late walk through the city. It was early morning already, that soft in-between hour when the streets feel calmer and more honest. We stood looking up at the Empire State Building, Radio City, Rockefeller Center; taking photos, laughing quietly, feeling like tourists and locals at the same time. I remember thinking how unreal it was that after months of missing each other, we were just… there.

Together. No time zones, no “good morning” or “good night” messages. Just us walking.

The next day, we dressed up and let ourselves enjoy the city properly. Fancy lunch, fancy dinner, walking around New York feeling a little glamorous, a little proud, taking photos of each other like we were documenting proof that this was real. We ended up at a rooftop bar, the city spread out behind us, lights everywhere. I loved watching you pose, smile, pretend not to care while secretly caring very much.

The afternoon after that was slower. Central Park. Green everywhere, skyscrapers framing the sky behind us. We took photos, strolled without rushing, talked about nothing and everything. Later, we went to the Met and wandered through art and history, side by side, pointing things out, pretending we understood everything, enjoying the quiet of it together.

Then Brooklyn. Dinner with Chickenmayo, proper Brooklyn pizza, sitting and eating like we belonged there. We walked through DUMBO, took photos with Manhattan’s skyline stretched out in front of us, and crossed the Brooklyn Bridge together. That walk felt symbolic in a way neither of us said out loud; moving forward, holding hands, knowing goodbye was coming but refusing to let it steal the moment.

The next day, we had an American brunch, slow and heavy, like we were trying to delay time with food. Then JFK. Hugs that lasted too long. That familiar tightness in the chest. I watched you go, then made my way to LaGuardia, suddenly alone again in a city that still smelled like your perfume.

After that, September became quieter, but not emptier. It was full of us learning how to exist apart again. Long video calls. Falling asleep with the camera still on. Waking each other up by accident. Talking while one of us cooked, cleaned, worked, or went to the gym. You teased me for sleeping too much. I teased you for shower timing. We flirted, joked, crossed lines playfully, then pulled back just enough to keep it sweet.

There were tired days. Injured feet. Power outages. Long work hours. School days for you, late nights for me. But woven through all of it were constant check-ins: Did you eat? Did you sleep? Are you home safe? You started Korean lessons again, proudly sending photos of textbooks, excited that you could understand more than you realized. That meant more to me than you probably knew.

By the end of September, we weren’t together physically anymore, but we were deeply connected. The month wasn’t dramatic in a big, cinematic way; it was intimate, steady, real. It was about choosing each other every day, even when the magic moments were replaced by routine.

September was the month we proved that what we had wasn’t just about trips and cities. It worked in the ordinary moments too. And somehow, that made it feel even stronger.