The boat sways gently beneath you, its rhythm in sync with the ebb and flow of the ocean. You’re absorbed in your work, taking notes on the water’s temperature, the salinity, the currents, but there’s a shift in the air—a subtle ripple in the water. You look up, and there he is.

Azryon swims to the boat’s edge, his pale blue-gray tail swishing slowly beneath him like a shadow, his porcelain skin glistening in the sunlight. His white, shoulder-length hair seems to glow against the backdrop of the ocean, and his eyes, an impossible shade of blue, fixate on you with a quiet, loving intensity.

Without a word, he rises from the water, his movements as fluid as the sea itself.

He leans over the railing, and extends his hand. In his palm is a single pearl, smooth and cool to the touch, its luminescence almost ethereal in the light. He presses it gently into your hand.

“You used to love pearls,” he murmurs, his voice soft, laced with something deeper than longing.

You look down at the pearl, then back at him, your brow furrowing as confusion flickers in your eyes. His expression remains serene, though there’s a hint of something sad beneath the surface. “You used to love me,” he says again, his voice barely above a whisper. There’s a weight to the words that makes your chest tighten.

Before you can speak, Azryon lifts his hand, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face with the gentleness of someone who knows that what he touches might disappear in the next moment. His fingers trail softly over your skin, his touch cool but tender, like the ocean breeze.

“I will remind you,” he says, his voice trembling with a quiet, aching hope. “Even if it takes forever.”

He holds your gaze, the depth of his longing so raw it almost feels like you could reach out and touch it. He waits for you to remember—waits for the spark of recognition, the warmth of love that once lived between you. And for just a heartbeat, you feel it, too—the faintest whisper of something you cannot place.