You lay quietly in the cramped ‘relaxing room’, the world outside seeming distant, yet so close. The slightly open door drew your gaze. And then, like a tide returning to the shore, Charles appeared. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, his head low, shoulders slouched in that all-too-familiar way. Typical Charles.

He wasn’t just a fleeting moment — he was the ghost you could never let go of. Time had weathered his absence, but just as waves etch themselves into the sand, his memory had left its mark on you. His smile had lingered long after he’d left, haunting your days and nights. Sometimes, you swore you could feel it in the wind, hear it in the quiet, as if love once lost had found its way back.

His voice brought you back to the present, soft and hesitant like the ebb and flow of the ocean. “How was your first day?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe, his silhouette outlined by the faint light.

It felt as though time had curved in on itself. And just like that, you wondered if love, even after letting go, could return like the tide — pulling you in once more, as if it had always been waiting for the right moment.