An hour later, the city was behind them, replaced by the hush of waves and the salty breath of the sea. Alistair had brought her to the beach. The same place he'd once taken her after her mother's funeral, when the world had felt just as unbearable as it did tonight.
She hadn't realized she needed to be here again—until now.
The moonlight stretched across the water like a silver path to nowhere. They sat on the sand, side by side, not touching, just there.
"You still remember," she said quietly, voice rough. "When my mom died… you brought me here."
Alistair nodded. "You said the sound of the waves made it easier to breathe."
"I saw you tonight," he added after a beat. "At the restaurant. I didn't know if I should follow, but something told me I had to. You looked like you were about to shatter."
Zara turned to him, her expression raw. "And now?"
"Now I'm here. Sitting beside you. And I'll stay as long as you'll let me."
She looked away again, toward the moonlight dancing on the waves. Her heart was still aching, but the sharpest edges had softened. Just enough.
She didn't speak again for a while—but when she did, her voice was calmer. "Thank you for bringing me back here."
Alistair looked at her. "It felt like the only place that could hold you tonight."
And in that quiet moment—waves crashing gently, the night wrapping around them like a blanket—Zara finally allowed herself to breathe.
Alistair didn't ask further, nor did he press for details. He was just… there.Sitting beside her like some emotionally literate statue—quiet, steady, not awkward for once. Impressive, really.
It was obvious he knew what was going on. She didn't have to explain the red-rimmed eyes, the dramatic exit from the restaurant, or why she looked like she was auditioning for a tragic indie film.
She glanced at him. "You're awfully quiet."
He shrugged. "I figured if I opened my mouth, I'd say something stupid like, 'Are you okay?' And I know you're not."
Zara let out a short laugh—more like a breath with attitude. "Wow. Growth."
Alistair smirked. "Shocking, right?"
He reached for his phone, fiddled with it for a second, then said, "Here. You remember this?"
A soft, dreamy tune filled the air— Audrey Hepburn's "Moon River."
Zara stilled.
He'd played it for her once before. Right here. After the funeral. When words had failed, but music hadn't. The gentle lull of the melody drifted over the beach like a whispered memory.
She closed her eyes.
"I forgot how much I loved this," she murmured.
Alistair didn't say anything. He just let the song speak, the two of them wrapped in moonlight and melody.
Then, a mischievous glint flickered in her eyes. "Remember when I was fourteen and we went to that party at your place? Simone and I snuck into your mom's room and borrowed her makeup."
Alistair laughed immediately, the memory hitting like a wave. "How could I forget? You came out looking like a haunted porcelain doll with lipstick on your teeth."
"I thought I looked glamorous," Zara said, mock-offended. "But no—you burst out laughing in front of everyone."
"I couldn't help it!" he grinned. "You looked like a very elegant raccoon."
Zara rolled her eyes. "So I got mad and threw your limited-edition sneakers into the koi pond."
"I mourned those shoes for a week," Alistair said with a dramatic sigh. "And the koi haven't been the same since."
She snorted. "You deserved it."
"I probably did." He shrugged.
Zara studied him out of the corner of her eye. Same face. Same ridiculously long lashes that still felt unfair. But his features had sharpened—his jaw more defined, his cheekbones more prominent. He'd grown into his face, and somewhere along the way, it had become… handsome and sexy. Unreasonably so.
He wasn't that loud-mouthed boy anymore. He was quieter now. Calmer. Like someone who had been through his own storm and come out the other side—changed, but still familiar.
"Wait a sec—do you even have a girlfriend?" Zara asked, squinting at him like she was trying to solve a mystery. "Because seriously, I've never heard a single scandal. No rumors. No secret flings. Nothing. You're practically ancient already—my brother's gone through three girlfriends this year alone. Oh my god… wait." She gasped, eyes widening dramatically. "Is this the part where you come out and tell me you've been into boys all along?"
Alistair blinked, then deadpanned, "Damn, Zara. I take you to the beach and suddenly it's Intervention: Who Does Alistair Like?"
She burst out laughing.
He smirked. "Hate to disappoint, but yeah—still into girls. I just don't play the game unless it's worth winning."
He leaned back, gaze on the horizon. "I've dated a few—pretty, popular, check all the boxes. But apparently 'still lives with his mom' is a dealbreaker."
Zara snorted. "Wow. So shallow. I mean, your mom's mansion has a wine cellar, two kitchens, and a koi pond. These girls clearly didn't think it through."
Alistair just smiled, eyes lingering on her face.I've been waiting for you to notice, silly girl. Maybe one day, you will, he thought, watching her laugh like nothing had changed.
The truth was, Alistair had been secretly in love with Zara for as long as he could remember. Back when they were kids, he used to make excuses just to hang out with her older brother—not because he wanted to play video games or ride bikes, but because it meant getting to see her. She was loud, curious, slightly chaotic, and always impossible to ignore. Even then, something about her had drawn him in.
To Zara, he'd just been the annoying neighbor kid. A loud-mouthed boy with a fast mouth and even faster comebacks. But to him—she'd always been the girl who made the world feel less empty.
Over the years, his feelings hadn't faded. They'd just learned how to stay quiet. Tucked beneath banter and inside jokes, behind the years of shared summers and silent car rides and birthday parties and… this. Her, beside him again. Like no time had passed at all.
He stood and brushed sand off his shorts. "Come on," he said gently, "let's get some dinner before I take you home."
The phone still played softly in the background—"Moon River, wider than a mile…"
Zara glanced up at him. Something in her chest tugged. She wasn't sure what.
But she followed him anyway.