*November 22nd - 8:00 AM Central Time*
Haruki stared at the email that had arrived at 6:47 AM, reading it for the fourth time while his coffee grew cold. The subject line was deceptively simple: "National Research Tour Proposal - Time Sensitive." The content was anything but simple.
"Noa," he called toward the kitchen, where she was attempting to make what she optimistically called "breakfast" but which looked more like a science experiment involving eggs, leftover rice, and whatever vegetables hadn't yet achieved sentience in his refrigerator. "You need to see this."
"If it's another interview request, I'm going to start charging media outlets for the privilege of asking us about our sex life disguised as relationship research questions."
"It's not an interview request. It's..." He paused, still processing the magnitude of what Dr. Richardson was proposing. "It's a coordinated tour of major universities across the country. Funded. With research collaboration opportunities at each stop."
Noa appeared in the doorway, spatula in hand, wearing one of his Northwestern hoodies and an expression of skeptical curiosity. "Define 'funded.'"
"Travel expenses, accommodation, speaking fees, and research stipends. Plus potential collaboration agreements with computational linguistics programs at each university." He looked up from his laptop. "Dr. Richardson says the Michigan presentation generated so much interest that multiple universities are requesting visits, and rather than handling them individually, they want to coordinate a comprehensive tour."
"How comprehensive?"
"Six weeks. Numerous universities. Coast to coast." He turned the laptop toward her so she could read the email herself. "They're calling it the 'Critical Period Research Initiative' and positioning it as a landmark tour for relationship psychology."
Noa set down the spatula and moved to read over his shoulder, her expression shifting from skeptical to intrigued to slightly overwhelmed.
"This is..." she said slowly, "either the opportunity of a lifetime or a complete disaster waiting to happen."
"Those aren't mutually exclusive."
"Fair point." She continued reading, her eyebrows rising with each university name on the list. "Harvard, Yale, Stanford, UCLA... Haruki, these are some of the most prestigious psychology programs in the country."
"I know."
"And they want us to present our research at all of them?"
"Us and Sana. The proposal specifically mentions computational linguistics collaboration as a key component of the tour."
"Sana doesn't even know about this yet."
"Which is why Dr. Richardson wants a response by tomorrow. If we're interested, they need to coordinate with her advisor and start planning logistics immediately."
Noa sank into the chair beside him, still processing the implications. "Six weeks on the road together. Different presentations. Constant travel and public appearances."
"And research opportunities we'll never get again," Haruki added. "Plus the chance to validate our findings across different regional populations and cultural contexts."
"And the chance to completely exhaust ourselves and potentially damage our relationship by turning it into a traveling academic circus."
"Also a possibility."
They sat in silence for a moment, both staring at the email that represented either their biggest opportunity or their most spectacular mistake.
"What does your gut say?" Noa asked finally.
"My gut says this is terrifying and exciting and potentially life-changing in ways we can't predict."
"That's not very helpful."
"Your gut?"
"My gut says we've spent months talking about wanting our research to have real impact, and this tour could reach thousands of students, faculty, and eventually the general public. It's exactly the kind of platform we need to make our work matter beyond academic publications."
"But?"
"But I'm scared that six weeks of constant public attention will change us in ways we're not prepared for. And I'm scared that traveling with Sana will either strengthen our friendship or create dynamics we haven't considered."
Haruki's phone buzzed with a text from Sana: "Did you see the email from Dr. Richardson? I may have screamed loud enough to wake my entire apartment building. Call me immediately."
"I think Sana's seen the email," he said, showing Noa the text.
"Should we call her?"
"We should probably discuss this together before we all get caught up in Sana's enthusiasm and agree to something we haven't thought through properly."
"Good point. What are the practical considerations?"
Haruki pulled up the detailed itinerary that Dr. Richardson had attached. "The tour would start in two weeks, right after Thanksgiving. East Coast first—Harvard, Yale, Columbia—then Southeast, Midwest, and ending on the West Coast with Stanford and UCLA."
"Two weeks to prepare for the biggest academic tour of our lives."
"Two weeks to decide if we want our relationship to become a traveling exhibition."
"When you put it like that, it sounds horrible."
"When I put it the other way, it sounds like the chance to share research that could help millions of couples build healthier relationships."
"Both things can be true."
"Both things are probably true."
Noa stood up and began pacing around his small living room, a habit she'd developed when processing complex decisions. "Let's think about this systematically. What are the potential benefits?"
"Academic recognition, research validation, career advancement, financial compensation, travel opportunities, and the chance to make our work accessible to diverse audiences."
"Potential risks?"
"Relationship strain, exhaustion, public scrutiny, academic pressure, travel stress, and the possibility that we're not ready for this level of attention."
"And Sana?"
"Sana gets the opportunity to present her computational research to major linguistics programs, build her academic reputation, and potentially find collaboration opportunities for her dissertation."
"But also gets thrown into six weeks of intensive travel with a couple she's known for less than a week."
"That could be awkward."
"Or it could be the foundation of a lifelong friendship."
"Or both."
Haruki's phone rang, and Sana's name appeared on the screen with the kind of insistence that suggested she'd been waiting as long as her patience would allow.
"Should we answer?" he asked.
"We should answer, but we should also remember that Sana's enthusiasm is infectious and we need to make this decision based on what's right for us, not just what sounds exciting."
"Good point." He answered the call and immediately put it on speaker. "Hi, Sana."
"OH MY GOD DID YOU READ THE EMAIL?" Sana's voice came through at approximately twice normal volume and three times normal speed. "FIFTEEN UNIVERSITIES, HARUKI. FIFTEEN. Including Stanford and MIT and Harvard and I think I might actually die from excitement but also terror because this is the biggest opportunity I've ever been offered and I have no idea if I'm qualified for this level of academic presentation but also I really want to do it and I think we could collect amazing data and—"
"Sana," Noa interrupted gently. "Breathe."
"Right. Breathing. Important for sustained speech and also for not passing out from excitement." There was a pause, followed by an exaggerated breathing sound. "Okay. I'm calm. Relatively calm. Calm-ish."
"What's your initial reaction?" Haruki asked.
"My initial reaction is that this is either the best thing that's ever happened to my academic career or I'm going to embarrass myself in front of the most prestigious psychology and linguistics programs in the country. Possibly both."
"That's exactly what we were thinking."
"Really? You're not just immediately excited about the opportunity?"
"We're excited," Noa said. "But we're also trying to think through the practical and personal implications of six weeks on the road together."
"Oh. Right. You're a couple, and I'm..." Sana paused, and they could hear the uncertainty in her voice. "I'm the third wheel who would be tagging along on your romantic academic adventure."
"You're not a third wheel," Haruki said firmly. "You're our research collaborator and friend. But we do need to think about how traveling together for six weeks might affect all of our relationships."
"What kind of effects are you worried about?"
"Honestly? We don't know," Noa admitted. "We've never traveled together for more than a weekend, and we've never spent extended time with you outside of academic settings. There are a lot of unknowns."
"But the research opportunities are incredible," Sana said, her enthusiasm returning. "We could collect data from fifteen different regional populations, validate the critical period hypothesis across diverse cultural contexts, and establish collaboration networks that could support our research for years."
"All true," Haruki agreed. "The question is whether we're ready for the personal challenges that come with those professional opportunities."
"What would make you feel ready?"
"Honestly? Nothing," Noa said. "I don't think anyone can be fully prepared for something like this. The question is whether we trust ourselves and each other enough to handle whatever challenges come up."
"And do you?"
Haruki and Noa looked at each other, having one of those wordless conversations that had become natural over months of close collaboration.
"I think we do," Haruki said slowly. "But we need to set some ground rules and expectations before we commit to anything."
"What kind of ground rules?"
"Travel logistics, accommodation arrangements, decision-making processes, work-life balance, and what happens if someone wants to leave the tour early," Noa listed.
"Also financial arrangements, presentation responsibilities, and how we handle media attention," Haruki added.
"And personal boundaries," Noa continued. "How we protect our relationship and individual well-being during six weeks of constant public attention."
"Those all sound very reasonable and also very complicated," Sana said.
"They are complicated. But if we're going to do this, we need to do it thoughtfully."
"So you're considering it? Actually considering it?"
"We're considering it," Haruki confirmed. "But we need to meet in person to discuss details before we give Dr. Richardson an answer."
"Can we meet today? I know it's Saturday, but I'm too excited to wait until Monday, and Dr. Richardson wants a response by tomorrow."
"This afternoon?" Noa suggested. "That gives us time to think through our questions and concerns."
"Perfect. Should I bring my laptop with the computational analysis data? Because I have ideas about how we could structure data collection at each university, and I think the tour could actually strengthen our research rather than just promoting it."
"Bring everything," Haruki said. "If we're going to do this, we want to do it right."
After they hung up, Haruki and Noa sat in the quiet of his apartment, both processing the magnitude of the decision they were contemplating.
"Are we crazy for considering this?" Noa asked.
"Probably. But we might be crazier for not considering it."
"Six weeks on the road with Sana."
"Six weeks presenting our research to the most prestigious universities in the country."
"Six weeks of hotel rooms and airports and constant travel."
"Six weeks of opportunities we'll never get again."
"You really want to do this, don't you?"
"I really want to do this. But only if you want to do it too."
"I want to do it. But I'm terrified that it will change everything."
"It will change everything. The question is whether it will change things in ways we can handle."
"And whether the professional opportunities are worth the personal risks."
"What do you think?"
Noa was quiet for a long moment, staring out the window at the Chicago skyline that had become familiar over their months in the city.
"I think," she said finally, "that we've spent our entire academic careers playing it safe and following conventional paths. And I think this tour represents the chance to do something unconventional and potentially transformative."
"Even if it's scary?"
"Especially because it's scary. The best opportunities usually are."
"So we're really considering this?"
"We're really considering this. But we're going to be smart about it."
"Define smart."
"Clear agreements, realistic expectations, and the understanding that our relationship comes first, even if it means making decisions that aren't optimal for our careers."
"I can live with that."
"Good. Because I think we're about to embark on the adventure of our lives."
"Or the disaster of our lives."
"Hopefully adventure. But we'll handle disaster if that's what happens."
As they began making lists of questions and concerns to discuss with Sana, both felt the familiar mixture of excitement and terror that had characterized every major decision in their relationship. The tour represented everything they'd worked toward—recognition, opportunity, and the chance to make their research matter beyond academic circles.
It also represented everything they'd learned to be cautious about—public attention, professional pressure, and the challenge of maintaining authentic relationships in artificial circumstances.
But as they planned their afternoon meeting with Sana, both felt ready to take the risk. Their research had started with careful documentation of their own relationship development. Now it was time to see if that relationship was strong enough to survive—and thrive during—the biggest test they'd ever faced.
The tour would either prove that their critical period hypothesis worked in practice, or it would become a very public demonstration of how even the best relationships could be challenged by success.
Either way, it was going to be interesting.
---
*End of Chapter 16*