After the children's laughter faded and the sounds of snack bags opening and closing ceased, a gentle hush fell over the shores of Socotra, as if the island had decided to catch its breath along with them.
Ahmed stood up first, looked around at the place, and said in a calm tone:
"We shouldn't leave the beach like this."
He began gathering the remains of bags and papers. No sooner had he bent down than Misaki silently joined him, carrying some shells the children had dropped, and began helping him clean the area. They didn't exchange many words, but their presence together was enough; brief glances, light smiles, and a tranquility that needed no explanation.
Ahmed did not know that distant eyes were watching them from behind the rocks—silent, steady, as if waiting for a specific moment.
After they finished, Misaki went back to the camp to change her clothes and get ready for a swim, while Ahmed headed toward his father, who was standing near the yacht.
"When are we going back home?"
"At sunset," his father said calmly. He then handed him a folded paper and added: "Give this to our Russian friend. Mr. Haruki and I are going with him to buy some supplies. You look after everyone and prepare the grill for when we return."
Ahmed smiled, saying: "Don't forget the tender shrimp."
His father laughed and waved his hand in agreement.
Ahmed went to his father's Russian friend, a middle-aged man with calm features and blue eyes named Ivan, and his wife Natalia, who was moving energetically near the tent. Ahmed handed over the paper, and just as he turned to leave, Natalia asked for his help in arranging some tools. He helped her quietly, not noticing how she looked at him with a gaze of sincere gratitude.
Once the three men had departed, Ahmed returned to the beach and began preparing the grill. He paused for a moment, then said to himself with a smile: "I want some coconut."
He went to his mother and asked if she would like some; she nodded smilingly, while Mrs. Sayuri showed clear enthusiasm. Ahmed set off to search among the trees, then remembered the grill and rushed back, only to find Misaki standing near it, watching the embers.
"Thank you," he said sincerely.
"The children are over there, making shell necklaces," she replied, pointing into the distance.
Ahmed returned to his search until he spotted a tall coconut tree. He climbed it with difficulty and brought down seven fruits, carrying them proudly back to the camp. His mother laughed in surprise and said: "When your father returns, he will open them."
With the men's return, the beautiful commotion resumed. The father opened the coconuts with care and expertise, and the milk flowed into cups. Ahmed distributed it to everyone, and expressions of admiration filled the air. The table was set, the grill was lit, and the dishes were varied. Everyone sat eating and laughing, as if time had stopped at that very moment.
After finishing, Ahmed carefully wrapped the trash and carried it to the yacht. Everyone boarded, then he stepped down once more to ensure nothing was left behind. He stood for a moment, looking at the beach... at the sea... at the island he had quickly come to love.
At that moment, he felt a slight prick. He didn't understand it. It was followed by a sudden heaviness in his body. He tried to turn around, but the ground tilted beneath his feet, and the sounds around him faded away.
From afar, a sound thundered in the sky. A helicopter rose, its shadow detaching from the ground.
The children screamed.
The father rushed toward the beach, with Mr. Haruki right behind him, but everything happened with a cruel swiftness.
Ahmed was lying there, motionless, as the sky drifted further and further away from him.
The sound vanished.
And Socotra Island remained... silent, as if it were guarding a dangerous secret.