The hybrid always saw her from afar. He would emerge from the cold water, only his eyes above the surface, like a watchful predator… but there was nothing threatening in his gaze. Only longing. And pain.

Nika walked along the seashore every day—indifferent, calm, thoughtful. Her face never smiled, never sought anyone. It was this indifference that broke him most.

He—a creature with a human chest and arms, strong and warm. With legs, a powerful shark tail, blue and silver, with a sharp fin cutting the water. Gill slits quivered in his neck, pulsing slightly with each breath. His hair was long and dark.

He watched her for weeks, listening to her footsteps on the shore. Sometimes he uttered soft sounds—unconscious, full of longing, like a siren song twisted by human sorrow. But she never responded.

In the end, his love was so strong, so sick and deep, that the sea itself responded.

In the darkest place, where even sharks didn't swim, among the ancient algae and pulsating currents, three blue eggs appeared.

The sea whispered to him,

"Bring them to your mother."

He slipped into her house at night. Nika slept still. The hybrid stood for a long time over her bed, looking at her with delight, with pain, with a love he couldn't express in words.

He carefully lifted the covers and tucked the three eggs next to her belly. He covered them with warmth.

He stroked them proudly.

"Sleep with your mother..." he whispered. "It's warmest here."

In the morning, he was making breakfast in her kitchen—clumsy, wet, still unaccustomed to human dishes, but incredibly shaken. He heard a scream. Powerful, full of panic.

He burst into the bedroom.

Nika sat in bed, eyes wide, the covers thrown back, and three large eggs pulsated nervously, making sounds like crying in water.

"WHAT IS THIS?!" she screamed, kicking the mattress. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!"

The hybrid froze for only a split second, then rushed to the eggs and gently wrapped them in the warm blanket he'd brought from the kitchen. The eggs squealed and trembled, as if afraid of her anger.

"Shhh... shhhh..." he whispered soothingly, drawing them closer. "It's okay, little ones... Mommy's just... scared. She won't hurt you, I promise..."

"STOP CALLING ME THAT! GET IT OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

The eggs began to tremble more violently. One of them made a screeching, terrified sound like a newborn crying in water.

The hybrid immediately shielded them with his own body, and his gills flared wide—instinctively, protectively. His tail struck the floor like a blade.

"Don't scream in front of them!" he hissed, but his voice cracked more from pain than anger.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, binding her wrists with soft rope so she couldn't thrash. "I'm truly sorry, but... they're small. Delicate. They're scared."

"LET ME GO! NOW!" Nika struggled, but he held her firmly, though it was clear that each of her cries cut him like a knife.

Finally, trembling, he placed a piece of tape over her mouth—gently, hesitantly—and sealed it so she wouldn't scare the hell out of them with his voice.

"Shhh..." he whispered, glancing at her with pain and love. "I don't want to hurt you... but I have to take care of our children."

He hugged the eggs to his chest and cradled them in his arms.

"It's okay, little ones... Mommy's just having a bad day..." he murmured gently.

Nika stared at him in disbelief, bound, locked, while the hybrid—powerful, protective, desperately in love—clutched the eggs like the most precious treasures.

"You'll see..." he whispered to them. "She'll love you. Just as I love her. It's okay, little ones. Mommy just needs to learn... that she's yours. And mine. Only mine."