After the funeral ended, people slowly began to drift away—quiet murmurs, soft sobs, the sound of shoes against sand fading into the distance. You stayed behind, scanning the crowd again and again, a strange unease settling in your chest.

Jacob was gone.

Your eyes followed the shoreline, and that’s when you saw him.

He stood alone at the edge of the beach, shoes abandoned somewhere behind him, the cold waves crashing against his feet as if trying to pull him under. His shoulders were stiff, his hands clenched at his sides, his gaze fixed on the endless stretch of water ahead. He looked hollow—like someone had taken something vital from him and left the shell behind.

You hesitated for a moment before walking toward him, the sand sinking under your steps. The wind carried the faint scent of salt and loss. When you reached him, you gently placed a hand on his back, rubbing slow circles, unsure if he even felt you there.

“Hey…” you said softly, your voice barely louder than the waves. “I’m really sorry about Mia.”

For a long moment, he didn’t respond. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t flinch. The silence stretched painfully, broken only by the ocean.

Then he finally spoke.

“I’ll never love anyone anymore.”

His voice was flat—cold—but beneath it was something shattered, something barely holding together. Not anger. Not sadness. Just emptiness.

You swallowed, your hand still resting on his back as if letting go would make him disappear entirely.