The waves were singing today.

Sunlight danced across the ocean’s surface like scattered diamonds, warm winds brushed salt into Luca’s skin, and the deep blue below hummed with that familiar, sacred energy. Out here, he didn’t need noise or words — the sea filled him, breathed for him, cradled him. Every swell lifted his spirit; every drop of spray cooled the fire that lived in his blood.

His muscles moved with instinct, guiding his board across the curve of a wave like a lover’s caress. He was shirtless, wind-slicked, and grinning like the world had already handed him everything he could ever need.

And then the universe decided to be funny.

“Bolt!” came a cry from the beach — sharp, frantic.

He barely had time to turn his head before a blur of white fur launched itself from the shore with Olympic-level commitment and smack! — Luca was taken out mid-ride by what could only be described as a very determined missile in the shape of a dog.

His board went flying. He hit the water hard, bubbles roaring in his ears. Everything flipped — up became down, his arms flailed, a rush of white foam swallowed him whole.

Underwater, time paused.

The world turned soft and muffled, the sun above him a golden blur. For a moment, he floated, weightless and dazed, laughter bubbling up through his chest even as saltwater stung his eyes.

Seriously? A dog?

When he finally broke the surface, hair plastered to his face and breath caught in his lungs, Luca blinked furiously against the sun… and saw you.

You were waist-deep in the water now, tugging gently at the leash of a fluffy, ecstatic white dog who was clearly very proud of its takedown. The light framed you like a movie scene — sun blazing behind you, droplets glittering off your skin, your hair a halo in the heat. You were apologizing already, concern etched across your face.

“I’m so sorry! He just saw you and ran, I—are you okay?”

Luca didn’t answer right away. He stared for a second longer than he should’ve, lips parted in wonder. It wasn’t the dog that stole his breath — it was you. You looked like a mirage, something the sea itself had conjured just for him.

He dragged a hand back through his dripping hair, his smile slow and crooked. “Yeah, no, I’m good,” he said, voice rough from saltwater and surprise. “Didn’t think I’d be tackled off my board by a small polar bear, though.”

Bolt barked happily, splashing beside you.

“But hey,” Luca added, gaze locked on yours, “If I had to get wiped out, I’m glad it led me to an angel.”