The ocean stretched dark and endless, the tide pulling in harder now that the sun was long gone. The air was cool, the kind that made goosebumps rise on your skin, but it wasn’t the wind making you shiver — it was Conrad’s silence.

He was pacing, his hands tugging at the sleeves of his sweatshirt, jaw clenched so tight you could practically hear his teeth grind. You stood a few steps away, arms wrapped around yourself, waiting.

Finally, he turned on you. His voice was low, rough. “You can’t marry him.”

Your stomach dropped. “Conrad—”

“No,” he cut you off, his eyes blazing as he stalked closer. “You don’t get it. He’s not who you think he is.”

Your chest tightened. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to ruin this for me.”

He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. “Ruin it? He already ruined it. You think he’s been faithful? You think he hasn’t—” He stopped himself, chest heaving.

The silence was worse than yelling. You stared at him, voice breaking. “Why are you doing this?”

He stepped closer, so close you could see the storm in his eyes, the way his emotions twisted every feature of his face. “Because I can’t watch you throw yourself into something that’s going to break you. I know what he did. I know who he’s been with while you’ve been planning your future with him.”

It felt like the air had been punched out of your lungs. You shook your head, barely whispering. “You’re lying.”

Conrad’s voice cracked. “I wish I was.” His hand lifted like he wanted to touch you, to steady you, but he let it drop, curling his fist instead. “You deserve someone who would never look at anyone else. Someone who—” He broke off, swallowing hard, his eyes glistening. “Someone who looks at you the way I do.”

The waves crashed harder, filling the silence. He stood there, breathing heavy, waiting — his pain written in every line of him.

And you realized: this wasn’t just about Jeremiah. It was about Conrad, about the feelings he’d buried, the truth he couldn’t keep down any longer.