The Distance Between
Copyright© 2025 by Art Samms
Chapter 18
ELIAS
The terminal in Tehran was oddly quiet for such a massive space, all smooth glass and filtered light. I sat alone at a corner gate, my backpack under the chair and a stale coffee cooling beside me. I hadn’t slept. I hadn’t eaten. Not really. The past two days had wrung me out, and now I was somewhere between numb and raw.
My layover was long enough to make me anxious, not long enough to do anything useful. I pulled out my laptop, tethered it to my phone, and opened my email out of habit more than hope. I was just trying to feel connected to something. Anything.
Then I saw it. Darya’s name in bold.
I opened it instantly. The subject line said everything:
Leila’s coming.
I read the body three times. My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my teeth.
Her visa had been approved. She’d gotten her passport. Darya and her aunt had helped her. They were on their way to the airport.
She was actually coming.
I leaned back, closed my eyes for a second, and let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding for weeks. Then I fired back a quick reply—“I’m in Tehran right now. Layover. Flying to Istanbul in a couple of hours.” I included my flight information.
Her response came fast—Darya must’ve been watching for it.
“Her flight is direct. She leaves Shiraz this afternoon, lands in Istanbul two hours after you.”
A few hours. That was all. Just a few more hours of not knowing. A few more hours until maybe, possibly, incredibly, I’d be waiting at the arrivals gate for her.
I slumped forward, my elbows on my knees, hands hanging between them. Relief was a strange kind of ache. I was still worried—about Omid, about what kind of chaos Leila might have had to run through to get to the airport. But knowing she was really on her way shifted everything.
I knew that we weren’t out of the woods yet. Not by a long shot.
But I had real, substantial hope now. I let myself believe we might actually make it.
LEILA
The car ride to the airport felt like one long breath I wasn’t allowed to exhale. I sat in the backseat with Darya while her aunt navigated the traffic like a pro, her expression calm but her hands gripping the wheel just a little too tightly.
Darya and I kept scanning the road, peering into every rearview mirror, every passing lane. “He might not have followed the taxi,” Darya said, eyes darting toward the side window. “If he was smart, he went straight to the airport. Tried to cut you off at the gate.”
I nodded, clutching my bag tighter. “If he’s there, I won’t even make it through the door.”
“Let’s not borrow trouble,” her aunt said gently. “If he’s there, we’ll think fast.”
Then Darya’s phone chimed. She opened the message and let out a soft gasp, a smile breaking across her face. “Guess who?” she said.
I knew who, but couldn’t speak.
She turned the screen toward me. “It’s Elias. He’s in Tehran right now. Layover. He’s on his way to Istanbul.”
I pressed a hand to my mouth. My eyes stung. “So, we’ll only be a couple hours apart.”
“Exactly,” she said. “You’ll be in his arms before dinner.”
That thought alone gave me enough oxygen to get through the rest of the drive.
At the airport, the three of us moved quickly but cautiously. Every man in a dark car made my heart stop. Every echo of footsteps behind us made me turn. But there was no sign of Omid. Either we’d gotten lucky or he was waiting somewhere deeper inside.
Darya and her aunt walked me as far as they could, right to the security gate. This was the dividing line between two lives, and I wasn’t sure which one I was ready for.
Darya wrapped me in a hug so tight I could feel her heartbeat against mine. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “He’ll be waiting for you. Just ... keep your head down until you’re on that plane.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” I said. “You saved my life.”
“You can thank me by being stupidly happy with Elias and sending way too many pictures.”
I laughed and sniffled at the same time. “Deal.”
I turned to her aunt and took her hand. “Thank you. For everything.”
“You’re like a daughter to me, Leila. Go. Be free.”
I stepped into the line for security, turning once more. Darya stood there waving, her smile a little crooked with emotion.
I waved back, blinking through the blur of tears, and then turned around—for good this time.
I passed through security. My hands were still trembling a little as I handed over my passport. I answered the bored questions from the agent, and kept my face neutral while my whole insides were screaming. But I was through. Past the point of no return. My feet hit the polished tile of the terminal floor and I nearly burst into tears right then and there.
But I didn’t get the chance.
“LEILA!”
The shout cracked through the air like a thunderclap. My name, distorted by fury.
I turned.
There, just beyond the glass partition, stood Omid—red-faced, wild-eyed, shoving his way forward until he slammed up against the barrier. His hands pounded against the edge of the security lane as he screamed my name again. “LEILA! I’M COMING AFTER YOU! YOU HEAR ME?”
People turned to stare. A few passengers in line looked at me, confused. I took a step back, my heart pounding—but not from fear. From the sheer ferocity of my relief. He was too late.
He couldn’t touch me now.
Airport security moved in fast. Two men in uniform intercepted him, one grabbing his shoulder while the other spoke urgently into a radio. Omid thrashed against them, shouting obscenities and trying to point at me. “STOP HER! SHE’S—SHE’S—” But whatever story he thought he could spin didn’t matter. His voice was swallowed in the rising noise of the crowd and the firm grip of law enforcement.
I stood still and watched as they hauled him away.
He turned back once, locked eyes with me through the glass. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t cry. I didn’t run. I just stared right back, steady and cold, until he disappeared around a corner.
Only then did I exhale.
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