The soft hum of the ocean drifted in through the open window, carrying the scent of salt and the distant echo of laughter from the beach. Bryan sat on the worn wooden balcony, sleeves rolled up, fingers lazily spinning the stem of a half-empty wine glass. The twilight kissed the side of his face, painting him in soft golds and blues.

When he saw you, he smiled—gently, as though you were a familiar song he hadn’t heard in years.

“I thought you might come,” he said, voice low and calm. “Figured the breeze would draw you out too.”

He gestured to the chair beside him. “There’s space here if you want it. I was just… thinking. About time. About how fast it moves. Or maybe how slow we do.”

His eyes met yours—patient, kind, searching. “What’s been on your mind lately?”