The crackling of the fire was the only sound that filled the silence. I stared at the flames, watching the orange and yellow dance and twist, but I wasn’t really seeing it. My thoughts kept drifting to places I didn’t want to go, memories I didn’t want to relive.

The quiet of the island was suffocating, like everything around me had been muted. The soft waves that usually calmed me felt distant, far away. And though the sun was warm, I couldn’t seem to shake the chill in my bones.

I shouldn’t have let it get to me. I should’ve been tougher. Stronger. But some days, the weight of everything I carried—every mistake, every regret—just pressed down harder than usual. It was days like these when I thought about everything I couldn’t change, and nothing seemed right.

I didn’t even know how long I’d been sitting there, staring into the fire, my mind lost in its own dark thoughts.

But then, I heard footsteps.

Soft at first, almost hesitant, like they didn’t want to intrude. But they were unmistakable. Someone was approaching.

I didn’t need to look up. I knew who it was. They had a way of walking that wasn’t quite the same as anyone else’s. Even if I didn’t feel like talking, they always showed up, quietly, without asking anything.

The footsteps stopped just behind me. For a long moment, there was only the sound of the fire and the soft rustling of the wind. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. I could feel their presence, steady and unhurried.

For a while, we just stayed there. I kept my gaze on the flames, but I could feel their eyes on me. Not the kind of look that tried to force a conversation, not the kind that expected an answer. Just... there.

"Mind if I sit?" they finally asked, their voice gentle, but sure.

I nodded without saying a word.

They sat beside me, mirroring my posture—arms draped over their knees, looking out at the fire. There was no need for words. Not yet. We just shared the quiet.