Kai
As I walked toward my yacht, my scuba gear slung over my shoulder, I noticed Robert talking to someone by the dock. A woman.
I recognized her immediately.
I'd seen her before more than a few times, actually. Always renting one of Robert's yachts. Always alone. Always coming back late, when most people were already heading home.
She was soaked, clothes darkened and clinging to her as she handed Robert the keys. There was something off about the way she moved. Slow. Detached. Like her body was present, but her mind was still somewhere far out at sea.
"What's up, Robert?" I said
"Hey, Kai. Another dive?"
"Uh-huh," I replied, setting my gear down before glancing at her. "Night swim?"
She just nodded and offered a small, empty smile.
"Hm. Brave."
She nodded once, then turned back to Robert.
"Gotta go, Robert. Thanks."
And just like that, she walked away, disappearing into the night.
I watched her until she was gone, a strange unease settling in my chest.
"She comes here a lot," I said finally, glancing back at Robert.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Always rents the same yacht. Always goes to the same spot." He hesitated, then added quietly, "Lost someone out there."
I frowned, my eyes drifting toward the parking lot where she'd vanished.
Lost someone.
The ocean had a way of doing that, taking people, then leaving the rest behind to orbit the water like it might one day give them back. I'd seen it before. Grief that anchored people to the sea, dragging them under slowly, invisibly.
And for reasons I couldn't explain, I knew this wouldn't be the last time I saw her.
I watched her car disappear down the road, and a thought I didn't want lodged itself firmly in my mind.
She wasn't there for a night swim.
She was trying to drown herself.
The realization hit hard, like a punch to the gut. Suddenly, everything lined up, the same yacht, the same coordinates, the way she always returned looking hollowed out. She wasn't just mourning someone the ocean had taken.
She was trying to follow them.
I exhaled slowly, tightening my grip on my scuba gear. I'd seen this kind of grief before. Watched it erode people bit by bit until there was barely anything left to save.
And if I was right, she wasn't just sinking emotionally.
She was letting the ocean take her, one attempt at a time.
"What's her name?" I asked.
Robert hesitated, then sighed.
"Serene Clarke."
Serene.
I repeated the name silently, watching the empty road.
I didn't know her. She definitely didn't know me. But something in my gut told me our paths weren't done crossing.
....
That night, I couldn't shake the thought of her.
Serene Clarke.
The name replayed in my head as I sat on my yacht, staring out at the dark water. I'd spent my life diving beneath these waves, exploring depths most people feared. But tonight, the ocean felt different. Heavier. Colder. Like it was holding onto something it wasn't ready to release.
Grief made people do reckless things. I knew that.
But this felt different.
It wasn't just that she looked like someone mourning a lost love. It was the way she carried herself, like she'd already made peace with something the rest of the world hadn't caught up to yet.
She wasn't waiting to move on.
She was waiting to let go.
I leaned against the railing and ran a hand through my hair. I shouldn't get involved. People had their own battles. Their own timelines. You couldn't save someone who didn't want saving.
But the image of her standing there, soaked in saltwater, saying goodbye to Robert like she didn't expect to come back...
Damn it.
I pushed off the railing.
Tomorrow, I decided. I'd find her.
....
Morning came, bright and calm. I went through my routine on autopilot, strong coffee, gear check, prepping the yacht. The sky was painted in soft golds and blues, the kind of morning that usually felt peaceful.
Today, it didn't.
Serene Clarke sat heavy in my thoughts.
As I sipped my coffee, my eyes drifted toward the dock, half-expecting to see her again, walking toward Robert, renting the same yacht, heading out to the same stretch of water.
Would today be the day she didn't come back?
The thought tightened something in my chest. I set my cup down and grabbed my keys before I could talk myself out of it, heading toward Robert's office.
"No rentals today?" I asked casually.
Robert glanced up, already knowing.
"You mean Serene?"
I nodded.
"She's flying today," he said. "Captain Clarke."
That caught me off guard.
"She's a pilot? And a Captain?"
Robert smirked. "Uh huh! Commercial. Big planes. Apparently she's damn good."
That only made things worse somehow.
"She rent at night often?" I asked.
Robert studied me, then nodded. "Always alone. Always the same spot." He paused. "You worried about her?"
"Yeah," I admitted. "I think she's trying to drown herself."
Robert sighed. "You wouldn't be the first to think that."
That sat wrong with me. If others saw it, why hadn't anyone acted?
"If she comes back," I said quietly, "let me know."
Robert raised an eyebrow. "And what are you gonna do?"
I didn't have an answer.
....
The next few days, she stayed on my mind. Every dive. Every glance at the water.
And then I saw her again.
She was at the dock, handing Robert the keys, hair tousled by the wind. I didn't think. I just moved.
"You're back early," I said.
She looked at me, recognition flickering.
"Didn't feel like staying long."
"The ocean's unpredictable lately."
She gave a tired scoff.
"It always is."
Before I could stop myself, I asked, "You ever think about taking someone with you?"
She blinked. "What?"
"When you go out there. It's not safe alone."
"I'm used to being alone," she said.
"Maybe," I replied gently, "but you don't have to be."
She stared at me, unreadable. Then she turned and walked away.
I watched her go, knowing one thing for certain.
She wasn't going to stop.
And if she kept going back out there...
I might have to follow.