Nika bought a lakeside cottage because she wanted silence, but from the first night she felt someone watching her. Not from the shore. Not from the forest. From the water.

Sometimes she heard a song—soft, sad, so beautiful that her heart felt heavy as wet sand. Other times, someone left something on her doorstep: a fish, a shell, a shimmering scale, as if from a dream. Nika thought it was a joke. Or an animal.

A foolish hope allowed her to ignore the truth.

One rainy evening, someone knocked on the door.

Gently.

Almost timidly.

Nika opened it… and froze.

A man stood in the doorway, soaked, a hood over his head, his long black hair plastered to his cheeks. He was trembling as if he'd just returned from a winter storm.

"Please…" his voice was hoarse, soft, cracking. "May I come in? I need… warmth."

Nika stepped back, making room. He entered cautiously, as if afraid to break something.

He positioned himself by the stove, holding out his hands toward the fire. Steam rose from his coat, dripping onto the floor. He was silent for a long time, staring out the window at the lake.

"It's lonely here, isn't it?" he asked suddenly. "Do you know what it's like when the only answer is the echo of water?"

Nika didn't answer. She didn't know how.

"I know," he whispered.

His voice trembled.

As if he'd been carrying months of despair.

Nika poured him tea. He accepted the cup with both hands, as if it were sacred. Before tasting it, he looked at her with a gratitude so profound that she felt… shivers.

"Thank you," he whispered. "You've always been kind."

The words made no sense.

She started to say something, but he suddenly choked, pushed away the cup, and began to cough—deeply, painfully, as if something were tearing him apart. He fell to his knees, bracing himself on the floor with his hands. Nika instinctively moved toward him—

And then something small fell from his mouth.

Something black.

Shiny.

A pearl.

It rolled slowly across the floor, as if alive.

The man lifted his head. The hood slipped back. Nika froze.

His features…were not human.

Orange eyes glowed with a soft light.

Thin gills moved on his neck. The ears were shaped like small fins. Hair flowed like black seaweed. Damp lines of scales were visible on his cheeks.

And tears streamed down his face. Thick, shiny…like small pearls.

“Don’t run away…” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “Please… don’t go.”

Nika took a step back, but he no longer looked like a monster.

He looked like someone… suffering.

“I was the one singing,” he said softly. “I was the one leaving the gifts. I called to you. I wanted you to notice me… and you never left.” His voice broke. “I thought you hated me.”

His tears fell to the floor like black drops of light.

The man stepped back slightly, as if to show he wouldn’t hurt her. From his pocket, he pulled out small gifts—a shiny scale, braided seaweed, a small seashell, carefully gathered.

“This was all for you,” he whispered. “Every night. Hoping you would open the door.”

Nika didn’t know what to say.

The man leaned down to pick up the black pearl, gently taking it in his hand.

“I wanted to ask you… to talk to me. For a moment. For understanding. That’s all.” He looked at her with a despair and love that could drown. "And if you want... if you ever want... this pearl can bind us."

He held the pearl up in the firelight, which reflected in his orange eyes.

"But I won't wear it without your permission," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I love you. That's why I have to wait. Love hurts."

Nika stood silently.

And he knelt before her, wet, trembling, in love, and terribly alone.

Waiting for her to say a single word.

"You…" he whispered, softer, more tenderly. "You… are my… everything. You… are my heart."

The words sounded like a confession and a prayer. He looked at her, his eyes filled with an intensity of emotion that threatened to drown. "You are more than… a partner. More than a lover. You are… the reason I breathe."