Just a Minute at Terminal Three

At Terminal Three, the clock ticks inexorably towards 5:23 PM, the exact time when, two years ago, Alex had given a goodbye kiss to his future wife Julia with a promise wrapped in three words—"Just a minute."

In that fleeting minute, Alex's vibrant laughter, the gentle touch of his fingertips, and the depth of his gaze promising a swift return are all etched deep in Julia's memory. Since then, Terminal Three has become her sanctuary, her vigil, and the chapel for her daily pilgrimage. Today, like every day, she stood there, her eyes tracing every face that emerged through the sliding doors, her heart a pendulum oscillating between hope and the crushing weight of despair, her longing for Alex's return palpable in the air.

Julia checked her watch: 5:22 PM.

The loudspeaker droned another arrival from Kyiv. Her breath hitched as she adjusted the collar of her coat, a nervous tic born out of years of waiting, watching, and wilting inside.

As the stream of passengers flowed into the arrivals hall, Julia's eyes searched with a desperate intensity. She knew this routine by heart—hope blooming with each opening door and wilting as strangers passed by. But today, her heart thudded with an unusual force. Today, something felt different, she thought, her anticipation reaching a fever pitch, the suspense of the moment thick in the air.

A young man, his suitcase worn and his military jacket faded, hesitated at the entrance. His eyes, a shade of hazel that stirred a long-forgotten ache in Julia's heart, scanned the crowd. His hair was a mess of unruly curls, his face lined with the weariness of a life lived on the edge. Her breath caught in her throat, her feet rooted to the spot. Could it be? Her Alex?

The clock ticked to 5:23 PM. The minute had begun.

With each second, the man drew closer. Julia's mind raced—imagining the embrace, the tears, the thousand questions. But as the seconds passed, her racing heart was tempered by the creeping recognition of differences too significant to ignore. The man's gait was more deliberate, his eyes carried stories different from the ones Alex left with. He walked past her, his eyes briefly meeting hers before he turned away, another stranger swallowed by the bustling crowd, leaving Julia with a profound sense of disappointment and loss.

The minute was ending, and another shard of hope crumbled with it.

Julia's gaze fell to her feet, the weight of her heart anchoring her more firmly to the ground than ever. She sighed, a sound drowned out by the din of reunions around her. Each reunion was a reminder of her solitude.

Then, a soft touch—a feather-light tap on her shoulder. She turned, heart in her throat, to face another stranger, this one holding out a crumpled piece of paper.

"I think you dropped this," he said, his voice gentle, inadvertently threading through the noise to reach her.

Julia took the paper, offering a small, weary smile as the man walked away. She unfolded it, her hands trembling. It was an old and faded Alex's boarding pass—a boarding pass from that very day two years ago.

Julia clearly remembers she kept a small part of Alex's boarding pass to remember his goodbye. She never thought the small part of the boarding pass would be that much precious.

Julia kept small notes on extra diary paper pinned with the boarding pass, the words Alex told her in the terminal before leaving: "I'll be back. I'll not be late. It's just like a minute, and we'll be together forever. Just a minute!"

Julia sometimes becomes very emotional. She remembers how Alex talks, smiles, and jokes and still vividly remembers how she met Alex.

On a chilly autumn evening, Julia stood alone on the bridge, her eyes locked on the distant city lights shimmering like distant stars. She had come to throw the sorrows of her past into the river below—sorrows that weighed heavily on her shoulders after a tragic plane crash claimed the lives of her family, leaving her utterly alone. As the cold breeze whipped around her, it seemed to echo the emptiness within.

It was there, on that bridge, that Alex found her. He was a stranger, out for an evening jog, but he stopped when he saw the despair etched deeply into Julia's face. Alex approached her tentatively, his voice gentle as he asked if she was alright. Julia, caught off guard by his concern, felt a strange comfort in his presence as if fate had sent her an anchor in her storm.

They talked for hours that night, sharing stories under the vast expanse of the night sky. Alex listened intently as Julia spoke of her family, her voice a mixture of love and pain. And as she spoke, something incredible happened—Alex's compassion and empathy slowly transformed her grief into a shared sorrow, and they found an unexpected solace in sharing.

They discovered they were both passionate about art and history, and laughter soon mingled with their tears as they discussed their favorite paintings and historical eras. They would spend hours in museums, admiring the brushstrokes of the masters and imagining the lives of the people in the ancient artifacts. Their shared love for these subjects became a bridge that connected them, a language that they spoke fluently and understood deeply.

In the days that followed, Alex became Julia's steadfast supporter. When the weight of her loss seemed unbearable, Alex was there, encouraging her to embrace life's possibilities again. He introduced her to his friends, brought her into his world, and most importantly, he was there—just being there when she needed someone the most.

Their love blossomed swiftly and intensely, like a rose in full bloom, undeniable and visible to all around them. Alex became not only her companion and lover but a beacon of hope, showing her that even in the most profound grief, life could go on and that she could find happiness again.

Then, the war in Ukraine erupted, and Alex, who had roots there, felt a duty to go back and help his relatives. His departure was sudden, a sharp pull away from the life they had started to rebuild together. He promised Julia he would return, but as months turned into years with no word from him, the old shadows of loss began to creep back into Julia's heart. The days turned into a blur of waiting and worrying, each passing day a painful reminder of his absence. The nights were the hardest, the silence of their shared bed echoing with his laughter and the sound of his voice.

Yet, the love and strength Alex had nurtured in her did not wane. Julia clung to the hope he had taught her, the belief in enduring despite the odds. She held on to the memories of their nights spent under the stars, the laughter they shared, and the quiet moments that spoke of a deep, abiding love.

She found her eyes full of tears. She tried to control herself and looked around to see if anyone had noticed her.

The minute ticked to an end. Life surged forward around her, but Julia stood frozen, the paper clutched in her hand a burning talisman of the past. In that single minute, she'd traversed a spectrum of emotion so vast it seemed to span more than the years she'd spent waiting.

As she refolded the boarding pass, placing it next to her heart, Julia made a decision. She would come back tomorrow, and the day after, and every day after that until the minute Alex walked through those doors. Because in that one minute, each day, there lay a universe of possibilities and one day, it would be enough to bring him back to her.

She checked her watch again and took a deep breath, holding and touching her left chest with her right hand. Realizing it was time to reset her heart for another day, she murmured, wiping her tears again, "Just a minute? Too long! I can't wait. I miss you, Alex."