Nerina watched the sea for hours each day after Theo left, as if its waves might return him to her, or at least carry back a whisper of the promise he'd made before parting. "I'll contact you," he had said with that gentle intensity that once made her believe nothing could truly separate them. She'd nodded then, a sliver of hope tucked into her chest like a fragile shell, unaware of how silence could grow so vast, so merciless.
The days passed like clouds over the ocean soft, slow, and somehow empty. She waited. She told herself it was too soon, that maybe he was adjusting, maybe busy, maybe caught in the whirlwind of the life he had to return to. But when one day folded into two, then four, then ten… that fragile shell inside her began to crack.
Each morning brought disappointment. No messages. No calls. No Theo.
She kept herself occupied, helping at the cove café, wandering through tidepools, trying to distract herself with small acts of normalcy. But nothing filled the absence he'd left behind. Her chest felt hollow, like something essential had been scooped out. The gentle magic of the island that once comforted her now felt like a cruel reminder of what she had lost.
She stopped watching the horizon.
Weeks passed, and she began to let go; not all at once, but piece by piece, like the tide drawing away the last traces of a sandcastle. She no longer reached for her phone in the mornings. She stopped visiting their favorite spot near the rocks. Eventually, she packed up the few things she'd brought to the island, stuffing memories into her bag along with clothes and notebooks, as if tucking them out of sight would lessen their weight.
Her ferry was scheduled to leave at dawn. A part of her hated the idea of going, but staying had become unbearable a haunting echo of what might have been.
That evening, on her way to the mainland train station, something in her began to unravel. The ache in her chest had dulled to a numbness, but her limbs were heavy, her thoughts foggy. She hadn't slept well in weeks. When she arrived at the small train depot, duffel slung over her shoulder, her face was pale, drawn, distant. Her eyes held no spark. Just tired resignation.
That's when the old woman saw her.
She stood at the edge of the platform; short, with silver-streaked hair plaited neatly down her back, draped in a shawl patterned with ocean waves. Her eyes were soft, wise, the color of tidewater at dawn. Her name was Ysella, and she had lived on the island long ago before choosing a quieter life in the coastal village nearby. Her granddaughter used to say she carried the sea in her blood.
Ysella had come to catch the evening train, but when her gaze fell on Nerina, something stirred in her memory, something old and aching. There was something in the girl's presence: the tilt of her jaw, the grace in her stillness, even in sorrow. A resemblance. A glimmer of someone long gone.
And just as Ysella was about to speak, Nerina's breath hitched. A sharp pain sliced through her temples, sudden, blinding. She wobbled, tried to steady herself on the edge of the bench, but the world tipped sideways, and everything went dark.
Ysella rushed to her side with surprising speed, calling out for help. Around them, the few waiting passengers froze in alarm. Someone dialed for an ambulance. But Ysella remained knelt beside Nerina, gently stroking her forehead. "Hold on, child," she murmured. "The sea has not finished its story with you yet."
....
Meanwhile…
Thousands of miles away, in a city of sharp lines and fast cars, Theo stirred.
He hadn't contacted Nerina, not because he didn't want to, but because fate, ever cruel, had intervened. The moment he landed back in the city, his phone buzzing with messages he didn't answer, he was whisked straight into a meeting with investors. The deal he'd been sent to close was complicated, tense, but he pulled it off. Barely. He should have called her after. He meant to.
But the night he drove back from that final meeting, exhausted and wired with adrenaline, it started to rain a thick, blinding curtain. His hands were steady, but his mind was still on Nerina, on the taste of her name, the softness of her voice, the regret of leaving without saying more.
He never saw the truck that ran the red light.
The impact crushed the front of his car like paper. He was pulled from the wreckage unconscious, ribs broken, shoulder dislocated, and his head bleeding. For weeks, he was in the ICU; machines breathing for him, nurses tending to him like a fading ember they refused to let die.
And on the night Nerina collapsed, the moment her body surrendered to that darkness his eyes fluttered open for the first time.
A nurse gasped. The beeping monitors surged.
Theo blinked up at the ceiling, groggy, confused, his thoughts scattered. But through the fog, one name floated to the surface like a lifeline.
"Nerina…" he whispered, his voice hoarse and cracked.
...
Back at the small coastal hospital, Nerina awoke to the faint scent of salt and lavender. Her head throbbed dully, but she was alive. Ysella sat nearby, a knitting project forgotten in her lap, her gaze steady and kind.
"Where… am I?" Nerina murmured, her throat dry.
"You fainted, sweetheart. At the station," Ysella said gently, pouring her a cup of water. Her eyes softened as she studied Nerina's pale face. "Doctors say exhaustion. Dehydration. And… there's something else." She hesitated, then placed a comforting hand over Nerina's. "You're carrying a life inside you, aren't you?"
Nerina's breath caught, the cup trembling slightly in her hands. She hadn't told anyone yet, not even herself how the tiny flutter inside her had become both a secret hope and a quiet fear.
Tears welled up unbidden, blurring her vision. "I didn't know what to do... I thought I could handle it alone." Her voice cracked, the weight of loneliness pressing down hard.
Ysella squeezed her hand gently. "You don't have to be alone. Not now. Not ever. The sea brings us trials, but it also brings us unexpected gifts." Her gaze was steady, filled with the wisdom of decades. "You are stronger than you know, Nerina. And that little one... they're a part of your story a promise of something new, even in the darkest times."
Nerina swallowed hard, a fragile hope kindling in her chest. For the first time in weeks, she felt a warmth not just from the life growing inside her, but from the kindness of someone who understood.
At that, tears threatened to return. Nerina looked away.
"I've been where you are," Ysella said after a pause. "Long ago. Loved someone who disappeared with the tide. But I also know something about girls like us we're stronger than we look. The sea chose us for a reason."
Nerina looked at her, startled. "What do you mean?"
Ysella just smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Nerina's temple. "Rest now. There'll be time for stories."
....
In his hospital bed, Theo sat upright for the first time, holding his phone like a lifeline. He scrolled through the old photos the ones of Nerina laughing beside the waves, the wind in her hair. A nurse entered and frowned at his heart monitor.
"You're getting emotional," she warned gently.
"I have to find her," Theo said, his voice rough but determined.
And somewhere across oceans, across broken silence the pull between them surged back to life.