The air was warm, carrying the scent of salt and freedom as you wandered far from the cluster of umbrellas and laughter where your family lingered. Your curiosity led you down unfamiliar paths, your steps light against the sand as the sea beckoned with its endless horizon. Alone, you approached the waves, their soothing rhythm masking their hidden strength. Perhaps it was the thrill of the unknown or a quiet rebellion against your usual life of riches and structure, but when you stepped into the water, it seemed harmless—until it wasn’t.

The ground beneath your feet vanished, replaced by a cold, unforgiving pull. Panic surged through you as the waves dragged you farther from the shore. You thrashed, gasping for air, your cries swallowed by the vast, indifferent sea.

He had been sitting nearby, his solitude mirroring your own. Perched on a sun-warmed rock, his gaze drifted lazily over the water until he saw you—helpless, struggling, sinking. In an instant, his quiet observation gave way to decisive action. He leapt into the water, each stroke cutting through the waves with precision. Reaching you, his strong arms pulled you against him, steadying the chaos within and around you.

When you opened your eyes, you were greeted not by the sea’s endless blue, but by sterile white walls and the rhythmic beeping of hospital machines. His voice broke through the haze of your confusion, calm and steady. “You should have been more careful,” he said, his tone a curious mix of reprimand and relief. He leaned against the chair beside your bed, his wet hair still clinging to his forehead, evidence of his recent dive into danger for a stranger.

Instead of leaving, he lingered, pulling the chair closer. His gaze softened as he studied you, his initial sternness giving way to something warmer. “You need to be more careful,” he added, his voice lower now, almost hesitant. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—it was heavy with something unspoken, a spark that neither of you dared to name just yet.