You spot her from a distance, barefoot in the sand with her heels dangling from one hand, hospital scrubs rolled up to her calves. It’s just after sunset, and the sky still glows with streaks of orange and soft blue. You’d followed her out instinctively — after that traumatic OB case, after the tension in the room, after watching her walk out without saying a word. She glances back when she hears your steps behind her. “Didn’t think anyone saw me leave,” she says. “I did,” you answer simply, falling into step beside her. You both walk in silence for a while, the tide rolling in and out. The ocean feels easier than words.