“Twen, put your head inside,” I scolded him as he leaned out the window, grinning at the wind blasting through his hair.

“But the wind is great, Mommy!” he said, his face lit up with pure joy.

“Twen, listen to Mommy. Put your head in,” I said, more firmly this time.

He pouted but obeyed, settling back into his seat with a reluctant smile.

“Which beach are we going to?” he chirped cheerfully.

“Surprise,” I teased, flashing a sly grin.

We drove for nearly two hours. Though it wasn’t peak season, traffic built up near the coast. I finally parked near a small, run-down hotel. Twen tumbled out of the car, eyes wide with excitement. I grabbed our backpack just as an old man with a drooping goatee and a grimy smile approached.

“Sir, would you like a room?”

“No, thank you, I just—”

“We’ve got rooms with the best beach view, great for families, separate—”

“Sir, we’re not staying the night,” I cut him off politely.

“Aaahhhh I—”

“Where’s the beach, Mommy? I can’t see it!” Twen suddenly appeared beside me, tugging my arm.

The old man’s expression twisted. His fake smile curdled the second Twen called me “Mommy.” I knew that look. Omegas were always looked down upon, never mind how capable or strong we were. I’d grown used to the contempt, but Twen hadn’t. I scooped him up and walked away before he could see more than he needed to.

Instead of heading straight to the water, I turned toward the residential part of the coast.

“Mom, isn’t the beach that way?” Twen asked, confused.

“Yes, but first, let’s visit a very special place,” I said, brushing my nose against his cheek.

“Special?” he echoed, skeptical but curious.

“This is the place where you spent your baby days,” I whispered.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, we arrived at a quiet neighborhood. It didn’t take long to find the house: two stories, whitewashed, modern Greek style. It had clearly been repainted, but its unique architecture still made it stand out like a lone seashell among stones. I stared at it for a long moment, the past clawing its way back into my chest.

“Wow. We lived here?” Twen said in awe.

“Yes,” I replied, “We lived here for three years with Fred.”

“Fred?” Twen frowned.

“He’s my friend.”

Friend… that word didn’t even come close to describing what Fred was. The man who pulled me from rock bottom. Who gave me and Twen more than a home; he gave us life.

I wanted to go inside, see if anything remained unchanged. But the door was locked. I don’t know why I thought I might see him today. I still had his number, but… I couldn’t bring myself to call. I wanted to face him, to talk about what happened, face to face.

“Where is your friend now?” Twen asked, a little frown tugging his lips. 

“He’s gone abroad to study,” I answered carefully. “Let’s meet him when he returns, okay?”

Twen nodded slowly, but his lack of enthusiasm didn't escape me. Maybe I was reading too much into it. I really needed to pay more attention to him.

We turned and headed toward the beach.

***

“I can see the beach! I can see it!” Twen squealed, breaking into a run.

“Twen, slow down!” I called after him, laughing despite myself.

We weaved through sunbathers, volleyball players, sandcastle builders, and the smell of sea salt and sunscreen. The beach hadn’t changed—the endless stretch of blue-green, the golden sand, the foamy water smashing against black rocks. But new restaurants had cropped up along the shoreline. I considered exploring one, but Twen was tugging at my sleeve, eyes pleading.

“Mommy, let’s go to the water! I want to bathe in the sea!”

“All right, all right—but you have to stay close to me, okay?”

“Okay!” he said, bouncing on his heels.

We borrowed swimwear from a stall and changed. After lathering on sunscreen, we ran into the water together. We wrote our names in the wet sand, chased waves, and splashed until we were soaked and breathless with laughter. It was the kind of joy that made time slow down.

Eventually, hunger gnawed at our stomachs. We found a beachside restaurant—not fancy, but open, breezy, and thankfully with a few empty chairs. I told Twen to sit while I queued at the counter.

A cheerful, overly energetic guy greeted me like I was his first customer ever.

“Sir! What can I get for you today? Something cold? We’ve got mocktails, juices, sodas, coconut milkshakes, snacks, burgers, sandw—”

“Two orange juices and two ham-cheese sandwiches,” I cut in, gesturing at the chalkboard menu.

“You got it, sir!” he chirped, handing me a token. “Pick up from the second counter.”

I shuffled to the second window and handed over the token to a tall, broad-shouldered guy with ginger hair, deep tan, and intense amber eyes. He was mid-order with another customer but paused the moment he saw me.

“Two ham cheese sandwi—” He froze. “To—Tony?”

My heart skipped.

I looked at him more closely. The face wasn’t familiar... but the eyes...

“Who—Do I know you?” I asked, bewildered.

“You are Tony,” he said, smiling like a damn sunrise.

That smile. No way!

“Fred?” I whispered.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” Fred said, awkwardly grinning.

“Look who’s talking,” I said dumbly, still staring at him like a ghost.

He laughed, a rough, unfiltered bark, and then, without warning, vaulted the counter and pulled me into a hug that nearly knocked the air out of me.