She no longer believed in summers..
To her, they were seasonal lies, scented like coconut, and tasting faintly of frozen peaches..
She went to the island because she needed to, not to meet someone..
She wanted to walk without thinking, to write without meaning, to release the shadows from her chest and let them melt beneath the sun..
And then she saw him..
In the little bookshop on the hill, reaching hesitantly for the same book, her favorite..
She smiled without thinking..
Not because she expected anything, but because he felt strangely familiar..
From then on, everything grew.. lighter..
As if time had gifted her small extensions of joy..
She watched him when he wasn’t looking..
Listened to him speak to others, not to understand him, but to feel him..
At night, they walked along the shore..
She collected small stones shaped like letters..
He told stories that never had endings..
One evening, they drew a heart in the sand, and planted a little stick in its center..
“So the world will know we were here,” she said..
She never asked him to stay..
Never asked him to return..
She loved him free, because that was how she had fallen for him..
When he left, she didn’t cry..
She held his card in one hand, and her breath in the other..
Read it only once..
Then tucked it gently between the pages, of the book that had brought them together..
She never tried to find him again.. But every time she returned to that same beach, she would go to that same spot, and carve the heart into the sand once more..
Alone.. Quietly..
Not to remember him..
But to remind herself, that once, she was loved without question, and she loved without fear..
To be continued..
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