As we retreated from the rocky shoreline, the ocean’s symphony echoed behind us, a haunting melody that lingered in our silence. Rhys led the way, shoulders squared against the fading light. I trailed behind, clutching the empty lemonade glass—a hollow reminder of the kiss that never was.
The waves whispered across the sand, revealing hidden treasures. I spotted a delicate shell, its pink-and-white swirls mesmerizing. I picked it up, murmuring, “Beauty in the broken.”
Rhys noticed. “Found something?”
I nodded. “The ones that wash up, worn and weathered. Couldn’t pass it up.”
He smiled, understanding flickering in his eyes. “You collect the pieces, don’t you?”
He scanned the shore and found one of his own. “Guess I couldn’t either.”
Together, we combed the beach, our steps syncing as
