Serene
I almost died last night.
The ocean nearly succeeded in taking me, pulling me under, wrapping itself around my body with the full weight of my grief. I didn't fight it. I didn't panic. I let go. I remember thinking, this is it, and feeling oddly calm about it. Like I was finally doing something right.
I had surrendered.
And then someone pulled me back.
Kai.
His face was blurred in my memory at first, distorted by water and fading consciousness. I remember the pressure of his arms around my waist, firm, unyielding, dragging me upward while every part of me felt heavy, useless. I remember the sound of his voice, distant but urgent, cutting through the roar in my head.
I didn't have the strength to resist.
I didn't have the will to fight.
But he did.
He kept me afloat when I was ready to sink. Kept pulling, kept moving, even when I went limp in his arms. I remember coughing, choking, my chest burning as air forced its way back into my lungs like it didn't belong there anymore.
I remember hating it.
I remember hating him for it.
The morning light crept through my bedroom window far too gently for someone who had almost died. It felt wrong, soft sunlight touching a body that was never meant to wake up again.
I lay there staring at the ceiling, my chest sore, throat raw, every breath a reminder that I was still here. My clothes from last night were folded over a chair, still smelling faintly of salt. My pilot badge sat on the nightstand, metal catching the light like it was mocking me.
Alive.
The word felt foreign. Uncomfortable.
My body ached in places I didn't expect, my ribs, my shoulders, my lungs but none of it compared to the heaviness pressing down on my chest. The kind that doesn't show up on scans. The kind doctors never know how to treat.
I closed my eyes, and his face came back to me, clearer this time.
Kai, standing over me on the deck, water dripping from his hair, hands shaking as he pressed on my chest. The panic in his eyes when I didn't breathe. The relief when I finally did.
"You're not dying on me," he'd said.
The words echoed now, uninvited.
I swallowed hard and turned onto my side, curling in on myself like I could make myself smaller, quieter, easier to ignore. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. A notification. A message from work asking if I'd be flying today.
I didn't answer.
How do you tell people you almost chose not to exist?
I sat up slowly, dizziness washing over me for a brief moment before settling. The mirror across the room reflected someone I barely recognized, pale skin, red-rimmed eyes, a bruise blooming faintly along my arm where he'd grabbed me.
Evidence.
I looked away.
He'd asked for an emergency contact.
I hadn't given him one.
Not because I didn't have anyone but because I didn't want anyone dragged into this. Didn't want questions. Didn't want pity. Didn't want to see that look in their eyes when they realized how broken I really was.
And yet, when I brushed past him on the dock, something inside me had twisted.
Anger, yes. But also shame.
Because part of me knew deep down that he hadn't saved me out of obligation. He hadn't done it for praise or gratitude.
He'd done it because he couldn't stand by and watch someone disappear.
That made it worse.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and pressed my feet into the floor, grounding myself. Breathing felt unnatural, like I had to consciously remember how to do it.
I was supposed to feel grateful.
Instead, I felt exposed.
Saved when I didn't ask to be. Seen at my weakest. Pulled back into a life I no longer recognized as mine.
My gaze drifted back to the badge on the nightstand.
Pilot. Responsible. In control.
A lie I wore well.
I reached out and picked it up, fingers curling around the cool metal. Last night, I'd set it down like a farewell. This morning, it felt like a question.
I didn't know what I was supposed to do now.
All I knew was the ocean hadn't taken me.
And Kai, whether he realized it or not, had become the reason I was still breathing.
And that terrified me more than drowning ever did.
My phone rang.
The sound startled me, sharp and intrusive in the quiet of my bedroom. For a second, I considered letting it ring out. Pretending I hadn't heard it. Pretending the world wasn't already tugging at me again.
But I looked at the screen.
Work.
I sighed and answered. "Clarke, speaking"
"Serene," my colleague said, his voice careful, almost gentle. "I received your resignation letter."
My chest tightened.
There was a pause, just long enough to make the words sink in. I had written it weeks ago, late at night, when everything felt unbearable. Sent it without ceremony. Another loose end tied off.
"Is there anything you want to... reconsider?" he continued. "We can't afford to lose a good captain."
A good captain.
The words felt strange, like they belonged to someone else. Someone steady. Someone reliable. Someone who didn't try to disappear into the ocean.
"I'm withdrawing it," I said, surprising even myself with how quickly the answer came. "I just... I need a couple of days off. Rest."
Relief flooded his voice immediately. "Of course. Take all the time you need. We'll see you when you're ready."
"Thank you," I murmured, and ended the call before he could say anything else kind enough to make my throat close.
I set the phone down and stared at it.
So that was it.
I was still a pilot. Still expected back. Still tethered to the life I had tried to walk away from, not just last night, but long before that.
I leaned back against the pillows and let out a slow breath.
Maybe this was what Anthony wanted.
The thought crept in quietly, unwelcome but persistent.
Anthony always believed in signs. In timing. In things happening for a reason. He used to say the ocean never took anything without giving something back.
Maybe this was his doing.
Maybe he wanted me to leave the edge. To step back. To stay.
And maybe that was why Kai had been there.
The idea lodged itself deep in my chest.
What were the chances, really? That out of all nights, out of all boats, out of all empty stretches of water, someone would notice? Someone strong enough, stubborn enough, to pull me back even when I didn't want it?
I closed my eyes.
He sent Kai, I thought.
Even though I didn't ask to be saved.
The irony wasn't lost on me. Anthony had always been like that, protective to the point of interference. Loving in a way that never quite asked permission.
I pressed my hand to my chest, right over my heart. It still felt bruised. Heavy.
"I didn't want to be saved," I whispered to the empty room.
But the truth lingered uncomfortably close behind that thought.
I was still here.
Breathing. Answering calls. Making plans for days that were supposed to exist.
And whether it was fate, coincidence, or the cruel timing of the universe...
Kai had become part of that now.
A stranger who had seen me at my worst.
A reminder that I hadn't disappeared like I meant to.
I didn't know if I was grateful.
I didn't know if I was angry.
All I knew was someone or something had interrupted my goodbye.
And I wasn't sure yet what I was supposed to do with the life I'd been handed back.