The wind bit at her cheeks, but Liana didn’t flinch. She stood at the edge of the cliff like she belonged there, her coat flaring in the salt-soaked air, arms crossed tight against her chest—not for warmth, but for distance. Below, the sea roared like it wanted to drag the whole world under, but she only stared. Unmoved. Unreachable.

Let it rage.

She had made a habit of coming here when the world felt too loud. The ocean didn’t ask questions. It didn’t pry or pity or pretend to care. It just crashed and broke and came back again, like her.

She didn’t notice him at first. Or maybe she did, but chose not to care.

A silhouette stood further down the rocky path, half-shadowed by the mist rolling in. Tall. Still. Watching her like he knew something she didn’t. The kind of presence that didn’t move even when the cold did.

Liana’s lips curled—not in a smile, but a silent warning.

She turned away first, of course. Not because she was afraid, and definitely not because she cared. But because staring too long felt too close to acknowledgment—and Liana didn’t acknowledge anyone.

The sound of her boots crunching over gravel echoed louder than the waves behind her. Still, she could feel his gaze, like a steady tide pressing at her spine.

She didn’t turn back.

She never turned back