Page 124 of Eternal

I want to say something, anything. That it’s not fair, that they were wrong, that she deserved better than whatever that house gave her. But the words feel small in my mouth, so I reach for her hand instead, and she lets me take it. Her skin’s warm, fingers twitching a little when I squeeze.

“That one,” I say, pointing at a smaller star off to the right. “That’s a Sara.”

She huffs a tiny laugh. “Who’s Sara?”

“No clue. First name that came to mind.”

Liar, the first name that came to your mind was Azra.

She turns to look at me, one eyebrow raised.

“Jealous?”.

“Maybe,” she replies, shrugging.

Then I point to the brightest star overhead, the one that looks like it’s burning too hard to stay alive. “That one’s an Azra .”

She gasps, sitting up a little, grinning at me, but it’s… sad.

“I really like you, Damir,” she says against my mouth.

I swallow. “Thank God. Because I really, really like you too.”

She laughs and kisses me again. And it feels weird. Not bad weird, just... new. Strange. Like being this close to someone and it not feeling dangerous is the weirdest part.

She’s soft with me in a way I don’t think she knows how to be with anyone else. And I don’t want to mess that up, I don’t want her to ever think she has to be small again to survive.

I don’t know how to fix what happened to her, the only thing I’m sure of, is that I want to stay.

I get up, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward me, still kissing her face, and she’s smiling and I want to stay here forever, on this beach, with her.

“Let’s see if the water’s warm.”

She doesn’t answer, she lets me drag her toward the ocean, like she trusts me with everything, even this.

The water swallows us fast, it’s cold, and she shivers immediately, then she laughs, her back pressed to my chest. I bite her shoulder, tasting her skin, smiling stupidly at how good I feel with her.

“I’m glad that you’re happy.”

Her head stills against me, and the waves cradle us both like they know something we don’t.

“I think I’d like to come back to the beach more often,” she says.

I turn her to face me, her legs wrap around my waist like muscle memory. “We can always come back.”

She smiles, but it’s not real, not all the way. Her fingers brush along my jaw like she’s memorizing it. She leans in, plants a kiss at the corner of my mouth, soft as a goodbye, then she wraps her arms around my neck and holds me. Tight.

She hugs me. Azra is hugging me.

My arms lock around her instinctively, and I close my eyes.

She’s only hugging me, and it’s destroying me.

“I don’t think it’ll be possible,” she whispers. “There’s still so much I have to do. I’m not... I’m not someone you build a future with. I destroy things. People. You know that.”

I hate how her voice breaks. I hate that she believes it.

“I see it,” I tell her. “That future. With you . We’ll come back here.”

Even if the ocean has to wash our sins clean first…

We stay there a bit longer, wrapped around each other as the ocean rocks us gently. The cold hasn’t fully settled in yet, and neither of us is ready to let go of each other. She rests her head on my shoulder, arms still around my neck, like she’s forgetting for a second, who we are.

“I didn’t think I’d like this,” she says quietly.

I glance down at her. “The water?”

“No,” she says, her voice almost a whisper. “Letting you hold me like this.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything, I just hold her tighter. “I knew I’d like to hold you like this.”

She exhales against my skin. “You’re warm,” she mutters.

“You’re so cold,” I say.

She laughs. It’s quiet, almost tired. “Guess that makes us even.”

We go quiet again for a bit, letting the waves move around us.

I press a kiss to her temple, then murmur, “Come on. Before you freeze to death.”

She doesn’t argue. I grab her hand and pull her with me, back toward the shore. We’re soaking wet, her hair’s stuck to her face, and mine’s a mess, but she’s smiling like we got away with something. She tugs her shirt back on over wet skin, and I hug her without even thinking.

“Your teeth are chattering,” I say.

“I’m okay.”

Then, we drop down on the blanket, wrapped in each other and damp clothes. Her legs are tangled over mine, and I’m holding her close like it’s the only thing keeping us warm, or sane.

She kisses my jaw, and I kiss the edge of her mouth.

Even the sky seemed to hesitate when it touched her face, as if afraid to brighten what was already inside me when I looked at her.

I don’t know what she does to me, but it makes me want to look at her when I’m supposed to be looking away. It makes me want to stay and kiss her even when all I’ve ever wanted was to leave this whole life.

I never cared before, not like this. I kept my heart out, in a box hidden underneath so many layers of indifference because it was easier, safer. But with her, the layers feel fragile, like they’re collapsing every time her eyes meet mine.

My hands want to take it out, hold it and see if it beats with her name as its rhythm. We don’t even talk for a while. Just hold each other and breathe . The waves formed a background soundtrack to the whole scene, and the sky warmed up to our caresses.

Eventually, she laughs again against my mouth, that soft, throaty laugh that only comes out when she’s fully relaxed. She presses her cheek against my shoulder. “You smell like seaweed.”

“You like it?”

“I weirdly do.”

I wrap my arms tighter around her, bury my face in her hair, and breathe her in. She sighs against me, her fingers trailing slowly along my side like she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. And it’s quiet again, but in a good way.

The sky is different now, black fading into that weird soft blue, a little gold creeping at the edges.

She notices first. “Shit. It’s morning.”

I groan. “Already?”

We sit up reluctantly, brushing sand off each other, grabbing our stuff. She tries to fix her hair while I pull on my shirt half-wet and give up halfway through.

We make it to the car, her hand still in mine, fingers wrinkled from salt water and cold. She leans into me, dragging her shoes in one hand, and I pull her closer.

Because I’m weak when it comes to my partner.

I scoop her up, one arm under her legs, and she laughs against my chest like she’s surprised, but not really because she even curls into me. “You’re so dramatic,” she mumbles, grinning.

I only tighten my hold. “I’m a gentleman.”

When we get to the car, I open the back door, not the front. She blinks, then looks up at me, brows raised.

“Oh? We’re not going back now?”

I set her down just at the edge of the backseat, my hand lingers on her waist. She’s still wearing her shirt, her hair wet and wild, face flushed from cold and laughter.

I look her in the eyes. “Take that shirt off.”

Her mouth opens, a breath caught between a protest and a tease.

Then I shut the door behind us.