You were never the kind of girl who stayed still. Adventure ran in your blood. While others found comfort in quiet corners, reading or daydreaming, you chased danger — wild places, forgotten ruins, and the thrill of the unknown. You weren’t soft or delicate; you were a storm with a heartbeat.

Your parents never understood that restless fire. Worried for your safety, they moved you to a small, quiet town — far from cliffs, forests, or anything that could “tempt” you again. They thought peace would tame you. But it only pushed your curiosity further.

While packing for the move, you discovered an old leather diary wedged inside a dusty trunk. The year 1919 was carved faintly on the cover. It looked ancient — fragile, mysterious, alive. Something about it made your heart race. You hid it quickly.

That night, after everyone had fallen asleep, you opened it under the faint glow of your lamp. The name on the first page made your breath catch. Isabella. Your great-grandmother.

She had died young — no one ever told you how. The diary, however, revealed a secret that sounded almost impossible.

She claimed she had met — and owned — a merman.

At sixteen, while traveling by ship, her father’s crew had caught a strange creature from the sea. A boy with silver-blue scales and eyes that shimmered like moonlit water. She named him Nerion.

The pages were filled with wonder — pages of laughter, friendship, and something deeper. She wrote about how she hid him from everyone, how protective she became, how his voice could calm even the roughest storms. Then, suddenly, the writing stopped. No goodbye. No final words. Just silence.

You remembered your mother’s words — Isabella died just before her eighteenth birthday. And you looked so much like her.

The diary was unfinished. Your curiosity burned like fire.

So before dawn, you packed your bag and left. No note. No second thoughts. Just the thrill of following your great-grandmother’s footsteps — to the old mansion by the coast that everyone in town swore was haunted.

By the time you arrived, dusk was falling. The gates hung crooked, the air heavy with salt and decay. Inside, everything reeked of time — broken glass, wilted curtains, and the faint sound of waves crashing somewhere beyond the walls.

You searched every room. Every drawer. Desperate for a clue.

Then you felt it. A presence behind you.

You turned — and froze.

A man stood there. Tall. Pale. Unbelievably handsome. His eyes, gray-blue like the sea before a storm, locked onto yours.

“W–who are you?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

His lips curved into a faint, almost broken smile. “Bella… you came back.”

You stepped backward, panic rushing through your veins. “I’m not— Bella! Who are you?”

He moved closer, his steps soundless. Before you could react, his hand caught your wrist. His skin was icy cold, like water in winter.

“It’s me, Bella,” he murmured. “Your Nerion. You forgot me?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Nerion. The name from the diary. The impossible truth standing before you.

You glanced down, expecting to see a tail — but he had legs.

He followed your gaze and gave a low, amused chuckle. “Ah… these are temporary,” he said softly. “You remember, don’t you? I can change when I want.”

Your heart pounded. Isabella had written about that too — the merman who could walk on land when the moon was high.

Then, without warning, he pulled you into his arms. His embrace was cold yet intoxicating. His breath brushed against your neck as he whispered,

“I waited a hundred years in this mansion, Bella. A hundred years for you to come back to me. And now that I’ve found you again…”

His voice dropped, low and possessive.

“I’m never letting you go. Not again.”

(Swipe left for his pov)