So yes.
Thank you, environmental violations.
You’re doing the Lord’s work tonight.
Then the fireworks start.
They explode over the water in bursts of gold and red and blue. The resort’s midnight show. The explosions echo across the beach, rattling my chest, filling the silence.
So we just sit there, two people who once meant something to each other, watching the sky fill with light. Fireworks and lanterns and stars that don’t care about our history.
That one minute he asked for stretches into five. Then ten.
Finally the fireworks and thundering explosions stop.
But neither of us moves to leave.
2
Amara
“That was a good show,” he finally says, breaking the silence that’s stretched between us since the fireworks ended.
I glance at him. “Yeah.”
Brilliant contribution to the conversation.
I know I should leave.
The smart play is to stand up, brush the sand off my dress, say something polite but final, and disappear back to my villa before this gets complicated.
But I don’t.
The ocean does its ocean thing. Rolling in, rolling out. Above us, a few straggler lanterns drift across the sky.
“How long are you here for?” he asks, his voice quiet enough that I have to lean slightly closer to hear him over the waves.
Oh goodie.
Small talk.
That’s definitely not going to make this more awkward.
Not at all.
“A week.” I hug my knees to my chest. “You?”
“Longer.” He pauses. “I’m here indefinitely. For work.”
Indefinitely.
Of course he is.
“Alone?” The question slips out before I can stop it. I bite the inside of my cheek.
None of your business.
You don’t get to ask that anymore.
