Page 67 of Love in Focus

My friends must be out doing something in the city, because they’re nowhere to be seen. It is Saturday night after all.

A few hours later, Celeste sends me all the files from today, without a subject or a message as usual. I don’t know why I expected anything different from her, but my heart still sinks when my phone stays dark the rest of the night.

Before I go to sleep, I write a formal apology to Nat and Keiko for their interview’s abrupt end. Without going into personal details, I thank them for their time and tell themthat both Celeste and I were very deeply moved by what they told us. Since I don’t think she’ll mind, I cc Celeste and send the email before focusing on wrapping up the project.

We’re somehow already five weeks away from Valentine’s Day, making us a bit behind schedule. But since work is a good distraction from everything else, I end up being super productive and make up for lost time.

By Monday morning, I’ve finished the write-up, added Celeste’s pictures, and sent everything to Evelyn for review.

I’m sad, but not surprised, when I don’t hear from Celeste again.

Idon’t have the heart—or strength—to tell my friends what happened yet. But even without me saying anything, Val and Kiara seem to sense that something is wrong, because they give me extra-long hugs when I move out later that week.

“You’re always welcome back anytime,” Kiara tells me after she and Val help me move my box to Ms. Chang’s apartment.

“Burrito will miss you,” Val says. “We will, too, of course. But we’ll still see each other at work every day.”

I pout. “Aw, I’ll miss Burrito, too! He’s the best. I’ll definitely come over to visit him!”

I’m glad I had the foresight to schedule my move-in day when I did, because it turns out to be perfect distraction from everything that happened with Celeste. For the next two weeks, I have my hands full with making the roominto my new home. It’s not as spacious as the condo I lived in with James, but after living several months on my friends’ couch, just having my own bed feels like a huge luxury.

My new landlady, Ms. Chang, and her husband, Mr. Lieu, are a nice, older Asian couple who are recent empty nesters. Ms. Chang, I learn, frequently cooks when she’s nervous, so the apartment always smells of delicious food whether she’s at home or not. She also sometimes even makes me snacks and meals like she were my own mom, waving me away and saying they had extra when I tell her she doesn’t have to give me any.

In return, I try to help Ms. Chang and her husband by quelling their anxieties about their kid, who just started as a spring admit at USC. Funnily enough, I went to theirrivalschool. But whenever we sit down together for dinner, I answer whatever questions the nervous parents—or sometimes their daughter herself through WeChat—have about college and living in LA, in general. It’s the kind of serendipitous and comforting connection with strangers that I didn’t know I needed until now.

Meanwhile at work, after a few more rounds of revisions with Evelyn, our project gets finalized asHorizon’s cover story for February. I want to share the good news with Celeste, but I don’t, respecting her decision to go silent on me. I’m sure she’ll find out about it, sooner or later.

All in all, it really does seem like I left last year’s bad energy behind, because everything in my life goes smoothly for once. The only times I don’t feel okay are at night, in thequiet hours when I’m alone in my bed and acutely aware of my every breath.

In these dark moments, every single thought threatens to swallow me whole, like a thick, suffocating blanket. I wonder if I’ll ever stop missing Celeste, if I’ll ever be okay with being by myself.

Upon its release on Valentine’s Day, the online version of “Modern Love in Focus,” along with the corresponding interview videos, gets a record number of clicks. Print sales also skyrocket, with countless people buying the printed issue as a keepsake, thanks to Celeste’s gorgeous photos.

People tag Celeste and me on Instagram, making posts and stories about how they could relate to different interviews. I try to reshare every story I see, and when I see Celeste’s icon appear under the list of people who’ve seen my stories, I feel a sense of comfort knowing that, on some level, she’s still there, even while she’s keeping her distance.

The most popular interview so far is Brent and Aaron’s, which is to be expected because of Brent’s massive social media following. But Keiko and Nat’s also makes the rounds, with many other queer women posting excerpts from their interview.

I’ve literally never seen an older sapphic couple interviewed like this before, someone says in the comments.This is such important representation in a dayand age when the portrayal of queer elders, especially people of color, is so rare!

A few other people on social media mention they’ve followed Dear Karl for a while, sending heart emojis our way and recalling specific instances the other writers and I have helped them over the years. All in all, most of the feedback seems to be positive.

“Well done,” Evelyn says after inviting me to her office one morning. “We got great feedback from Citrine. They’ve decided to keep the lifestyle section and make ‘Modern Love in Focus’ an annual Valentine’s Day tradition, but with different couples each year.”

“Oh wow,” I say. “That’s fantastic!”

Even though it’s technically good news, the most I can give her is a tight grin, since it’s unlikely that either Celeste or I will want to do this project again. Not after what happened the first time.

Evelyn surprises me by also remaining pensive. I didn’t tell her what happened between Celeste and me, so it’s not like she could have any idea about any of the non-work stuff. But then why this muted, thoughtful response?

“What is it?” I ask, fearing the worst.

“I saw a job posting,” she finally says.

I hold my breath, hoping she’s not about to say she’s leaving me and the rest of our team. After seven years of working for her, EvelynisHorizonto me. I can’t imagine being here at this company without her.

“For a features editor in the New York magazine owned by Citrine,” Evelyn continues. “I want you to apply.”

I do a double take. “Wait, what? Me?”

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