Between the waves and you
Emmanuella goes back to Bellharbor, the quiet seaside town she's loved since childhood, planning this visit to be just for the summer and a last memory before moving on. The town and Noah, her first love and heartbreak, remember her-his laughter once in every wave.
When the past and present collide under salty skies, she's torn between what was and what could be. She meets Eli, who sees her in ways Noah never did; Lucas, who helps her breathe again; and Noah, still waiting beneath the same sky they once shared.
Across four seasons, she learns that growing up means loving, losing, and remembering in new ways. Between the waves and her fears lies everything she's ever wanted to feel and to find again.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 3
The week feels like a ribbon of light and salt.
Mornings start the same: sun spilling through the curtains, the smell of coffee, waves whispering me outside. I tell myself I'm here to breathe again, to remember who I was before things got tangled. But memory doesn't ask. It seeps in like the tide, knee-deep before you know it.
On the fourth morning I head for the pier. The air tastes of rain, though the sky shines. There's a strange buzz-something big is coming. Noah is there, of course. He leans on the railing, watching the horizon as if waiting for something that might never return. He turns at my steps and, for a moment, I'm still. "Hey," he says, soft.
"Hey." We stand, the smell of salt between us and the sound of waves. "I wasn't sure you'd come back here," he says. "Neither was I." He nods. "This was your favorite." "It still is," | admit.
"Even when it hurts."
He laughs softly. "Bellharbor never lets go." "No.
It doesn't." We stare at the endless water. The silence feels fragile. Then he says, "You look different, Em." "Older? Sadder." | breathe out.
"You were always honest." "And you always wanted the truth." "I wanted a lot of things." He meets my eyes. "Me too'
The wind lifts my hair. He moves to tuck a strand behind my ear, then stops, hand hovering. The
near touch is enough to make my heart stumble.
"I thought about you a lot," he says, barely above the wind. I swallow. "Then why didn't you call?" His jaw tightens. "Because I didn't know what to say. Because everything I wanted to say felt too late." "Maybe it was," | whisper. He looks down.
"You left so suddenly. One day we planned the rest of the summer, and the next you were gone." "You stopped talking to me before that." He flinches, then nods. "I was a mess. Mom was sick. I pushed everyone away, and you were the one who got hurt." We fall silent; the ocean fills the space. I finally say, "I waited for you. I used to sit here, hoping you'd find me." "I did come." he says softly. "The night before you left. You were already gone." The truth hits me. "You came?" "Yeah. I stayed, watched the water until sunrise." He laughs bitterly. "I hoped the sea would bring you back." My throat tightens.
"Maybe it did."
He looks at me fully. The space between us feels small. "Do you ever wonder what would've happened if we hadn't messed up?" he asks. "All the time." Then he takes my hand. Fingers brush, testing. It's enough to flood memories-our first kiss, his hand under the stars, the feeling the world was ours. Then I pull away, remembering the ache. " can't do this," | whisper. "I'm not asking you to," he says, hurt in his voice. "I just miss you." "I miss you, too. That's what makes it hard.
We walk toward the boardwalk in quiet, the air tense between us. Near the cafe we hear a familiar laugh: Eli. He sits at an outdoor table, a notebook open, a smoothie in hand. He waves.
"Hey, Em." Noah turns. "You know him?" "Kinda.
Met him the other night." Eli stands, bright enough to ease the moment. "Nice to see you again. "Talent for running into people," | say. He grins. "Maybe fate." Noah's face tightens a fraction, but the mood shifts. "Are you two friends?" | shrug. "Sort of." "Old friends," Noah adds. "Nice to meet you." They shake hands, distant. The moment lingers. Then Noah says he has to go to the dock. "See you around." He walks away. Eli watches him go, then looks at me. "You okay?" I force a smile. "Yeah. Just a lot of memories." He nods. "That guy isn't just an old friend." I look away. "He was more." "And now?"
"I don't know yet." He offers a gentle smile.
"Maybe it's time to find out."
That evening I wander the pier alone. The sky glows pink and gold; the tide is high. I sit on the railing where Noah stood. The sea hums and I feel it: it doesn't take sides. It holds every version of us-the girl who fell for seventeen, the boy who let her go, the woman who came back, the stranger who made her laugh again.
Maybe truth lives in all that. Maybe love isn't about choosing who you can't live without, but living with what lingers after the waves take the rest.
The wind smells of salt and something sweet-lemon soap and memory. I close my eyes and listen to the sea breathe. When I open them, Noah stands at the end of the pier, watching. He doesn't smile. He nods once, steadily saying I remember too.