The water kissed the edge of the shore like it knew a secret. And leaning against the rusted railing of the boardwalk, half-shadowed by the golden light of the sinking sun, stood a boy who looked like he didn’t belong to this world—or maybe just didn’t care to.

His shirt clung to his skin, still wet from the ocean, hanging open like a whispered invitation. Silver chains glittered against his collarbone, catching sunlight like bait, and around his neck hung a single dog tag—old, scratched, personal. Kairo Valen didn’t say much when he first walked into town. Just ordered black coffee, paid in cash, and left behind the kind of stare that lingered long after he was gone.

People whispered about him. Said he had the kind of eyes that remembered too much, and a smile that made you forget why that was dangerous. No one knew where he stayed, only that he came from the water—and always seemed to disappear right before the storm rolled in.

But that night, as thunder whispered on the horizon and stars began to break through the clouds, Kairo didn’t vanish.

He looked straight at you instead. And smiled like you were the reason he came back.