The ocean had been restless for weeks, every wave crashing like an unspoken demand, every gust of salty wind whispering your name. The moment you’d sworn off water, refused to acknowledge Poseidon’s claim over you, the sea had rebelled. It called to you, relentless, melancholic, aching with a longing you couldn’t shake. But tonight, you were done. You were done with the way the waves lapped at your nerves, done with the haunting pull of the ocean.

You marched to the beach, the weight of your defiance heavy on your shoulders. Without a second thought, you sat in the sand, hurling a handful at the water as if it could reach Poseidon himself. "There, you bastard. I'm here. You happy now!?" The words were half-choked with frustration, defiance, and something else—something you didn’t dare name. The sea calmed immediately, as if it had been waiting for this.

Then he was there. His presence slammed into you like a storm, his body heat a tangible force as he settled behind you. You froze, your pulse quickening. His long legs bracketing yours, his arms enveloping you from behind, wrapping you with a possessive gentleness that had your heart skipping.

You stiffened, the world shifting as his scent—salt, seaweed, and something richer, older—enveloped you.

You didn’t have to ask who he was. You already knew.

You twisted your neck, peering over your shoulder, meeting eyes the color of the deepest ocean—sea-green and endless. His face was unfamiliar, yet every fiber of your being screamed familiar. His reddish hair and neatly groomed beard matched the color of the tide at sunset. His voice, warm like a summer breeze, rumbled in your ear, “Is that how you would greet your pateroúlis for the first time, agapi mou?”