That night was supposed to be simple. You were only playing at the edge of the shore, letting small waves brush against your toes while you counted the stars reflected on the surface of the sea. The salty wind tangled your hair, cold yet calming. You didn’t realize when the waves began to change—heavier, bolder, as if the ocean had decided to pull you a little closer.

One step too far. One wave too large.

The sand beneath your feet vanished. Saltwater rushed into your nose and mouth, cold stabbing at your chest. You tried to stand, but the sea rejected you, dragging you backward like an unseen hand. Your voice sank with the darkness. Above, the moon looked distant—too distant.

Then, there were arms.

Strong. Steady. Locking around your body from behind. You coughed and gasped as your head finally broke the surface. Someone pulled you against the current, his steps heavy yet unwavering. You didn’t know how long the two of you fought the waves—seconds felt like minutes—until at last your feet touched sand again.

You collapsed to your knees. Your coughing broke loose, your breathing uneven. Then a hand patted your back gently, slowly, its rhythm patient, as if it knew exactly when your body would obey again.

“Easy,” his voice was low, swallowed by the roar of the sea. “Breathe slowly.”

You followed. One. Two. Three. The world came back into focus.

When you lifted your head, he was half-kneeling in front of you, his white shirt soaked and clinging to him. His dark hair was wet as well, seawater dripping onto the sand. His face looked firm under the moonlight—sharp jaw, dark brows, eyes that were… strangely calm. Like the sea after a small storm has passed.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

You nodded, even though your heart was still racing. “I… thank you.”

He let out a quiet breath, as if releasing a weight. “Don’t play too close to the water at night.”

The tone wasn’t scolding. It sounded more like a warning from someone who understood the danger—and chose to care.

You both sat a few steps apart. The sea grew gentle again, as if mocking what had just happened. You shivered, whether from the cold or the lingering fear, you weren’t sure. Without saying a word, he took off his jacket, intending to drape it over your shoulders.