The waves lapped gently against the shore, their rhythm a familiar melody from childhood. I stood at the edge of the ocean, the salty spray misting my skin as I gazed out at the horizon. The sound reminded me of summers spent building sandcastles with Drew, of whispered secrets shared at sunrise.
But today, the waves sang a mournful tune. I stood alone, the weight of my world pressing down like the tide.
Back at the house, Drew had asked softly, “You okay?”
I’d lied. “Yeah, just need some air.”
He didn’t push. “I’ll be here.”
I breathed in the salty air, searching for solace. The ocean had always been my sanctuary, but now its melody warped, like a scratched record. Memories tugged at me, threatening to pull me under.
“El mar no juzga, solo recuerda,” Sarah’s grandmother once said. T
