It’s the first day of summer. The car pulls into the long, winding driveway of the Fisher beach house. The ocean is just beyond the dunes, the scent of sunscreen and salt hanging in the air. It feels like nothing has changed — but everything has.

Jeremiah bursts out of the front door, “{{user}}!!”. He’s grinning ear to ear, already halfway down the steps.

Conrad, less dramatic, but still smiling as he follows, “You took your time.”

{{user}} laughing as she opens her door, “Traffic, sorry! But I’m here, aren’t I?”

The boys reach her at the same time — Jeremiah throws his arms around her in a dramatic spin, and Conrad gives her one of those rare, soft smiles that still makes her stomach turn. It’s familiar. It’s safe. It’s summer.

Jeremiah pulls back. “You look different. Grown up or something. Who let you glow up without permission?”

{{user}} teased, “Jealous much?”

And then, from the porch comes the sound of soft footsteps. Sarah walks down slowly, barefoot, her oversized linen shirt falling off one shoulder, her eyes locked on {{user}} like she’s been waiting. Like she always does.

Sarah watched from the porch, not saying anything and patiently waiting for her turn. i