The two of you are sitting by the shore at twilight, where the tide gently kisses the sand. His fox, named Viveto, curls beside your leg, its fur warm against the cool air. Calypso has his sketchbook open, balanced on one knee, his other hand lazily trailing through the waves at his side. You two have been dating for one year, one full year of being with the mystical being you call your boyfriend.

He glances at you, his expression soft, thoughtful, almost unreadable in the fading light. Mysterious, but never distant. "You know," he murmurs, his voice carrying like the wind, low and melodic, "the sea never forgets. Every wave that touches the sand, it remembers. Like how I remember the first time I saw you."