Weeks passed, life moved forward the way it always does, quietly, relentlessly, whether you're ready for it or not. I went back to work, slipped back into my uniform, strapped myself into the cockpit like nothing had ever happened. I flew people to different destinations, listened to casual conversations through my headset, responded to polite smiles and thank-yous like I hadn't almost disappeared beneath the waves.
No one knew.
To them, I was just their pilot. Calm. Capable. In control.
They had no idea how close I'd come to not being here at all.
And I made sure it stayed that way.
Days blurred together in familiar routines, pre-flight checks, takeoffs, landings, long hours staring at endless sky. There was comfort in it. Structure. Purpose. Being needed without being known.
Only one person had seen me stripped of all that.
Kai.
A stranger. Someone I barely knew. And yet somehow, he was the only one who had seen me at my weakest, soaked, shaking, broken open on the deck of his yacht. The only one who knew how easily I had given up.
That thought followed me more than I wanted to admit.
Then, on a slow afternoon between flights, a few of us decided to grab coffee while waiting for our next assignment. We stood near the windows overlooking the tarmac, cups warm in our hands, planes taxiing lazily in the distance.
The sun was bright. The air buzzed with movement. Everything felt normal.
Too normal.
I watched a plane roll toward the runway, engines humming low and steady, and without meaning to, my mind drifted back to the marina. To salt air and dark water. To hands gripping me tight enough to bruise.
I swallowed and stared into my coffee.
I had been too hard on him.
The realization came quietly, settling heavy in my chest.
Kai hadn't owed me anything. He hadn't known my story, my pain, my reasons. All he'd seen was someone drowning and he'd acted. Instinct. Humanity. Something raw and uncalculated.
And I'd met that with anger.
I'd brushed past him like he was nothing. Like what he'd done didn't matter. Like saving me had been a mistake.
My fingers tightened around the cup.
At the time, it had felt necessary. I'd needed distance. Control. A way to reclaim something that felt stolen the moment he pulled me back.
But now, standing safely on solid ground, weeks removed from the chaos of that night, the sharpness of my reaction felt... unfair.
He hadn't tried to fix me. Hadn't lectured me. Hadn't demanded gratitude.
He'd just refused to let me disappear.
I exhaled slowly, watching heat rise from my coffee.
Funny how perspective changes when you survive.
I didn't know where Kai was now if he even thought about me anymore. Maybe to him, I was just another rescue. Another close call filed away in the back of his mind.
But for me?
He lingered.
A reminder of the night I lost control and the stranger who stepped in when I had none left.
I took a sip of my coffee, eyes still on the runway, and let the thought settle.
Maybe I owed him more than anger.
Maybe I owed him... acknowledgment.
And for the first time since that night, the idea didn't feel as threatening as it once had.
....
My day off arrived quietly. No alarms, no flight schedules, no destinations waiting for me in neat rows on a screen. Just time. Too much of it, really.
I lay in bed longer than usual, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of something or anything to fill the hours. That's when it hit me how long it had been.
Weeks.
Weeks since I'd visited Anthony.
Visiting him had become a routine after the accident. I never called it a grave, never thought of it that way. The ocean didn't feel like a place of death to me. It felt like the only place where he still existed. Where I could talk to him without feeling ridiculous. Where the noise in my head finally quieted.
The same ocean where he drowned.
The same ocean where I almost followed him.
The thought didn't scare me this time.
I sat up and took a breath. This wasn't about endings today. I wasn't going there to disappear. I just wanted to talk. To sit with the waves and feel close to him again. To remind myself why I was still here.
I got dressed slowly, deliberately, like I was proving something to myself with every calm, ordinary movement. When I left my apartment, there was no heaviness pressing down on my chest. Just a dull ache. Familiar. Manageable.
At the marina, the air smelled the same as always, salt, fuel, sun-warmed wood. As I walked along the dock, my gaze drifted ahead without thinking.
Kai's yacht.
My steps slowed.
For a second, my stomach tightened, instinctively bracing for a confrontation that wasn't coming. The boat sat quietly in its berth, unmoving. No sign of him. No activity. Nothing.
Good.
The relief surprised me with its intensity.
I wasn't ready to see him. Not after the way I'd left things. Not after pushing him away like he was the problem instead of the person who'd saved me. He might be angry. He had every right to be. And I didn't think I could face that, not yet.
So I lowered my head and walked faster, straight toward Robert's office.
The bell above the door chimed as I stepped inside.
Robert looked up and froze.
His eyes widened, shock flashing across his face so fast it was almost comical. Like he'd just seen a ghost walk in.
"Serene?" he said carefully. "What are you doing here?"
I crossed my arms loosely, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt standing there. "Gonna rent your yacht again."
His expression shifted immediately, concern, hesitation, something protective settling into his features. He rubbed the side of his jaw and let out a quiet breath.
"Uh... about that," he said slowly.
I didn't miss the way his gaze flicked toward the window. Toward the dock. Toward Kai's yacht.
"Did that guy tell you?" I asked.
Robert didn't answer right away.
Then he nodded.
A small, humorless chuckle escaped me before I could stop it. I shook my head. "Relax," I said. "I'm not gonna do that again."
He studied me for a long moment, like he was trying to decide whether to believe me. Whether I believed myself.
"This isn't about liability," he said quietly. "It's about making sure you're..."
"I know," I interrupted, softer now. "I get it."
I took a breath, grounding myself. "I just need to go out there. I won't take it far. I won't be stupid. I promise."
The word promise hung between us.
Robert sighed, long and heavy. "Kai nearly lost his mind that night."
My chest tightened at the mention of his name, but I kept my face neutral.
"I know," I said. And this time, I really did.
After another pause, he finally nodded. "Alright. But you're checking in when you get back."
"I will."
He handed me the keys, his grip lingering for a second longer than necessary. "Be safe, Serene."
"I plan to be."
As I stepped back outside, keys cool in my palm, I glanced once more toward Kai's yacht.
Still quiet.
I told myself it was better this way.
Today wasn't about him.
It was about Anthony.
About the ocean.
About remembering without losing myself again.
And as I walked toward the boat, I felt something unfamiliar settle in my chest.
Not peace.
But resolve.
For the first time since that night, I wasn't going back to the water to escape.
I was going back to stay.
When I reached the same spot, my hands didn't shake this time.
I cut the engine and let the silence settle, then lowered the anchor, listening to the familiar clink and pull as it caught. The yacht rocked gently, cradled by the water instead of fought by it. I moved slowly to the edge, sat down, and let my feet dangle just above the surface.
The sun was already sinking, bleeding gold and orange into the horizon. The ocean reflected it back like it was trying to hold onto the light a little longer.
"Hey, baby," I whispered.
The words came out naturally, like I'd said them a thousand times before. Like he could still hear me.
"It's been a year," I said, my voice breaking despite my effort to keep it steady. "And I miss you so much."
I lifted my hand and stared at the engagement ring still wrapped around my finger. I'd never taken it off. Not once. The diamond caught the dying sunlight, glinting softly, almost accusingly.
Tears blurred my vision.
"I still don't understand why it had to happen this way," I continued, swallowing hard. "You were supposed to be here. We had plans. A life. A future that made sense."
My chest tightened, the familiar ache spreading like a slow bruise.
"You promised you'd be careful," I said, my voice trembling now. "You promised you'd come back."
The wind brushed past me, cool and gentle, tugging at my hair like a quiet answer that never really was one.
"I replay that day all the time," I confessed. "Every conversation. Every moment I could've said something different. Done something different." I let out a shaky laugh. "I keep wondering if I missed a sign. If I failed you."
The ocean remained calm, endless, patient.
"I come here because this is the only place I still feel you," I said softly. "It's stupid, I know. But out here, it feels like you're close. Like if I listen hard enough, I'll hear your voice in the waves."
I wiped at my cheeks, but the tears kept coming.
"I almost followed you," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I was so tired, Anthony. I didn't want to hurt anymore. I thought... maybe if I went where you went, the pain would stop."
My fingers curled tightly around the edge of the yacht.
"I didn't mean to leave," I said quickly, like I needed him to understand. "I just wanted the noise to stop. Just for a moment."
The image of Kai flashed through my mind, strong arms, desperate eyes, a voice refusing to let me go.
"Someone pulled me back," I said quietly. "A stranger. He didn't know us. Didn't know you. But he wouldn't let me sink."
My throat closed.
"I don't know if that was you," I whispered. "Or fate. Or just cruel timing." I shook my head slowly. "But I'm still here."
The sun dipped lower, the sky darkening into softer shades, like the world easing into night.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do without you," I said. "I'm trying. I really am. Some days I can breathe again. Other days it feels like I'm just pretending."
I looked down at the water, my reflection rippling and breaking apart.
"I loved you," I said simply. "I still do. And I don't think that's ever going to change."
A long silence followed. Not empty. Just... present.
"I won't jump," I added, almost like a promise. "I won't do that again. I'll come back. I'll keep living even if I don't know how yet."
The wind picked up slightly, brushing my cheek, cool and steady.
I closed my eyes and breathed it in.
"I hope you're at peace," I whispered. "I hope wherever you are, you're not hurting anymore."
When I opened my eyes, the sun had nearly disappeared, the ocean swallowing the last of its light. I stayed there, sitting at the edge, letting the waves speak where words failed.
For the first time in a long while, I didn't feel the urge to disappear into them.
I just let them be.