The kind that fills your ribs with fire and makes the blood in your veins sing.
We stand there, locked in that kiss, while the waves crash around our knees and the sky turns the color of spilled wine. His forehead rests against mine when we break for air, both of us breathing like we’ve just fought a war.
In a way, we have.
But there’s no more fighting today.
No plans. No running.
Just us.
I curl my fingers into his tunic, draw him close, press my ear to his chest. His heart thuds steady beneath skin browned by sun, scarred by battles won and lost.
“I’ve never felt lighter,” I whisper.
He hums deep in his chest.
“Because you laid it all down,” he says. “All the hurt. All the fear.”
I nod.
I believe him.
I am free.
Free of the past.
Free of the chains.
Free to choose.
Barsok slips his arm around my waist, and we walk the shoreline until the stars come out. The moon rises fat and gold over the sea, casting silver across the tide. Crabs skitter across the wet sand. Sea birds cry in the distance.
We sit on a flat rock and share bread and olives, just like we used to in the cells, except now the salt on our lips is sea spray, not tears.
“This place isn’t haunted anymore,” I say.
He tilts his head. “No?”
I shake mine. “No. It’s holy.”
He nods like he understands.
We stay until the tide threatens our toes, then head back up the dunes, arms slung around each other like anchors.
The world feels big again.
Like anything could happen.
Like everything still could.
And we’ll face it, together.
