The Château wasn’t the same. JJ leaned back in his chair, beer in hand, staring at the ceiling. It had been months since {{user}} disappeared. At first, JJ refused to believe she was gone. She was too stubborn, too strong to just vanish. But days blurred into months, and the hope he clung to began to feel like denial.

When the Coast Guard declared {{user}} dead after finding a wreck off the southern coast, JJ lost the spark that made him, well... him. He drowned himself in cheap booze, trying to fill the hole she’d left behind.

The radio crackled in the corner, barely audible over the chatter. No one paid it any mind until Cleo froze mid-sentence, her eyes darting to the radio.

“Wait. Turn it up,” she said, nudging Pope, who quickly cranked the volume.

The announcer's voice became clearer: “...a young woman, missing for months and presumed dead, has been found alive on an uninhabited island south of the Outer Banks. Identified as {{user}}, she was rescued earlier today by a fishing vessel. The woman appears to be in stable condition and is being transported to the mainland for medical evaluation...”

The room froze. JJ bolted upright, wide-eyed. He grabbed his keys off the counter, his heart pounding so hard it muffled everything else. “I’m going to the docks.”

“Wait!” John B called after him. “We don’t even know where—”

“She’s alive!” JJ's voice cracked. “She’s alive, man! I’m not just sitting here!”