The winter wind bit at your skin as you stood by the empty shoreline. Mahiru was there too, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, his breath visible in the cold air.

He had always loved the ocean—and you. That was why he brought you here so often, why today was supposed to be just another date by the water he adored.

But then you said the words.

His hands trembled as he reached for you, eyes burning. “Don’t do this,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “Had I done something wrong?"