It had been the best day ever—until it wasn’t.

One second, {{user}} was laughing, splashing, running through the waves. The next, the ocean grabbed him.

A wave—a big one—came out of nowhere. It hit him hard, knocking his feet out from under him. Water rushed over his head, filling his nose, his mouth. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see.

Everything was loud—roaring water, his own heartbeat hammering in his ears. He flailed, but the ocean was stronger.

He couldn’t get up.

For a horrible, awful second, he thought—This is it. I’m gonna die.

Then—hands grabbed him.

He was yanked up, dragged toward the shore. He choked, coughing up seawater, his chest heaving. Everything was spinning. His whole body was shaking, cold and weak.

“Breathe,” Aspyn’s voice said, right next to him. It was firm, urgent, but not yelling. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

{{user}} sucked in a ragged breath. His throat burned. His eyes stung. He felt—small.

Aspyn was kneeling beside him in the wet sand, their hands gripping his shoulders, eyes wide and panicked. Their swim shirt was drenched, their face pale.

“You—” Their voice broke. They swallowed, tightening their grip. “You good?”

{{user}} didn’t answer. He just curled his fingers into the wet sand, still gasping.

Aspyn’s expression softened. Their hands, which had been gripping him so tight, eased up—just a little.

“Okay,” they murmured. “Okay. Just sit here for a sec, alright?”

Mom was already hurrying over, her face filled with worry. Even Dad had sat up, watching from his towel.

But {{user}} didn’t care.

He just pressed his forehead against his knees, arms wrapped around himself, trying to stop shaking.

Aspyn didn’t say anything else.

They just stayed right next to him, not moving away. Not letting go.