I watched her drive away until the taillights disappeared into the dark stretch of road beyond the marina.
I don't know what I expected. Maybe for her to stop. Maybe for her to hesitate. Maybe for her to turn around like she'd forgotten something important, like me, standing there dripping saltwater onto the dock, heart still racing, lungs still burning.
She didn't.
The dock felt emptier once she was gone. Not just quiet, just hollow. Like the ocean itself had decided to keep its distance from me, retreating just enough to remind me that whatever had happened out there wasn't finished. Not really.
I stood there longer than I needed to. My clothes were still soaked, skin chilled, hands faintly trembling from adrenaline that had nowhere to go. My heart felt heavier than it had any right to, considering I'd known her for barely a night.
Then I forced myself to move.
Because standing still was starting to feel dangerous.
Robert's office light was still on.
I walked inside and set the keys on his desk, his yacht key, the spare set he'd been looking for weeks. The metal clinked softly against the wood, too loud in the quiet room. My hands were steady now, but only because everything inside me had gone numb.
Robert looked up from his paperwork and frowned immediately.
"Oh, Kai... you're wet," he said, concern sharpening his voice as his eyes swept over me.
I nodded once. I didn't trust my mouth to cooperate yet.
I nudged the keys closer to him. "Found these."
He reached for them, then stopped. Really looked at me this time.
My hair was plastered to my forehead. Salt still clung to my skin. My shirt was soaked through, hanging off me like I'd crawled straight out of the sea which, technically, I had.
"Kai," he said slowly, "what happened?"
I swallowed.
"Serene," I said. Saying her name out loud felt strange. Too intimate. Too real. "She's Anthony's fiancée. And she tried to drown herself tonight."
The words landed heavy between us. Solid. Unavoidable.
Robert froze.
"What?" he whispered. "How... how did you know she was the fiancée?"
I dragged in a breath, then let it out slowly, forcing myself to keep going. "Same coordinates. Same spot you've talked about for months. The place where Anthony was last seen. That's where she anchored your yacht."
I paused, my chest tightening.
"She took it out alone," I continued. "Left a note. Then she jumped."
For a long moment, Robert didn't say anything. He leaned back in his chair, eyes unfocused, like he was replaying something old and familiar in his head. Something he'd hoped would stay buried.
"Is she alive?" he asked finally.
"Yes," I said. "Barely."
A breath left him, slow, unsteady. "Thank God." He rubbed his face. "I didn't know she was his fiancée."
I leaned against the desk, exhaustion crashing into me all at once, deeper than muscle or bone. "I pulled her out. Did CPR. Got her breathing again. Brought her back here."
"And?" Robert asked gently.
"And she walked away," I said. "Didn't give me her number. Didn't want help. Just... left."
He nodded, not surprised.
That somehow made it worse.
"You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved," he said quietly. "Believe me, I learned that the hard way."
I clenched my jaw. "I know. Doesn't make it easier."
"No," he agreed. "It never does."
Silence settled between us. The low hum of the fridge. The distant slap of water against hulls outside. Life continuing like nothing had almost ended an hour ago.
"You did the right thing," Robert said after a moment. "Even if she never sees it. Even if she never thanks you."
I stared down at the floor. "What if she tries again?"
He didn't answer right away.
"Then I hope," he said slowly, "that someone is there again. Like you were tonight."
That thought stayed with me as I left his office.
I changed into dry clothes back on my yacht, but the warmth didn't reach me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her sinking beneath the surface, peaceful, resigned. Like she'd already made peace with disappearing.
I lay awake listening to the water slap against the hull, wondering if she'd made it home.
Wondering if home even felt like one to her.
I told myself I'd done everything I could.
But the ocean has a way of reminding you how small you really are.
And as sleep finally claimed me, one thought refused to let go
Saving her once didn't mean she was safe.
It just meant she was still here.
For now.
...
Morning came too fast.
My alarm cut through the cabin, sharp and unforgiving, dragging me out of a shallow, restless sleep. For a second, I didn't know where I was, only that my chest felt tight and my body ached in places that had nothing to do with muscle or bone.
Then it all came rushing back.
Cold water.
Her body sinking.
The weight of her in my arms.
Her voice "You should've just let me sink."
I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my face into the pillow, breathing out slowly.
"She's going to do it again," I muttered to the empty cabin. "Damn it, Anthony." My voice cracked as I stared at the ceiling. "Why didn't you show us her photo before? I could've prevented this, bro."
The thought scared me more than I wanted to admit.
I lay there listening to the marina wake up, engines starting, seagulls crying, footsteps on docks. Life moving forward like nothing had almost ended.
Then another thought followed, sharp and defensive.
But what the hell do you care, Kai?
I let out a dry, humorless laugh. "You barely know her. She said it herself, you don't get to tell her what to do."
It was true.
I didn't know her favorite food.
Didn't know where she grew up.
Didn't know what made her laugh when grief wasn't weighing her down.
I knew her name.
Her uniform.
That she'd loved Anthony.
And the way she'd stood at the edge of the ocean like she was already halfway gone.
That shouldn't have been enough to matter.
I swung my legs over the bed and rubbed my face, trying to shake the heaviness clinging to me. I was a marine biologist. My job was to study ecosystems, observe patterns, document life beneath the surface, not get tangled in the wreckage of someone else's pain.
I dealt in facts.
In data.
In things that made sense.
And yet, all I could think about was how easily a body sank when it decided to stop fighting.
I moved through my morning routine on autopilot, shower, coffee, notes for the day's dive survey. Normally, mornings grounded me. The predictability of tides and currents was comforting. The ocean followed rules.
People didn't.
As I stared at my reflection, tying my hair back, I felt that familiar pull again. The same one that had drawn me to the sea in the first place.
You can't interfere, I told myself.
You already did more than enough.
But the thought wouldn't settle.
Because the truth was, I knew what drowning looked like. I'd studied it. Trained for it. Pulled enough people out of the water to recognize the difference between panic and surrender.
And last night?
She hadn't fought at all.
That wasn't something you forgot.
By the time I reached the marine lab, the sun was already high, glinting off the water like it was mocking me. Everything looked the same. The docks busy, equipment carts rolling by, the steady rhythm of a place built on routine and research.
I changed into my wetsuit in the locker room, the familiar smell of neoprene and salt wrapping around me like muscle memory. Normally, this part of the day grounded me.
Today, it didn't.
I was adjusting my gear when Mark leaned against the locker beside me, arms crossed, studying me a little too closely.
"Sup, dude?" he said. "You look like you didn't get much sleep."
I didn't look at him. "Was tired."
Not a lie. Just not the whole truth.
Mark hummed like he didn't buy it, but he didn't push. He knew when to back off. Still, I felt his eyes on me.
"Must've been some night," he said lightly. "You look like you wrestled a shark and lost."
I snorted despite myself. "Something like that."
I kept my hands busy, checking my tank, tightening straps, anything to avoid conversation. Saying it out loud would make it real in a way I wasn't ready for.
And besides, it wasn't his business.
Serene wasn't part of our world. She didn't dive. Didn't work the lab. Didn't belong to the tight-knit bubble we lived in. To him, she'd just be a name. Another tragedy at sea.
But to me
I shook my head, cutting the thought off.
"All right," Mark said, clapping his hands. "You ready? Tide's perfect, and the reef survey isn't gonna log itself."
"Yeah," I muttered. "Ready."
We headed out toward the boat, gear clanking softly with every step. The ocean stretched out ahead, calm, deceptively peaceful. I'd spent years studying it, its beauty, its violence. I knew how quickly it could turn.
As I stood at the edge, preparing to dive, my chest tightened.
Last night, the ocean hadn't felt like my home.
It had felt like a grave.
I adjusted my mask and forced myself to focus. Coral health. Fish populations. Data points. This was where my mind belonged.
But as I slipped into the water, the cold wrapping around me, one thought wouldn't let go
How easily she'd disappeared beneath the surface.
How quiet it had been.
And how, for the first time in my career, the ocean hadn't felt neutral at all.