Of course he did.
Of course there was always something else.
“I should let you go then,” I said.
I started to step away slightly—but his hand tightened just enough to stop me.
He tilted his head toward the shoreline.
“Come.”
Just one word. A quiet command.
I hesitated for half a second—
Then a small, unexpected smile tugged at my lips.
Tentative. Surprised.
But real.
And I followed him.
We walked side by side along the hard-packed sand near the water’s edge, close enough that the waves occasionally rushed over our feet—cool, fleeting, grounding.
The ocean pulled at the shoreline in steady breaths, the sound blending with the noise of life all around us.
Children shrieked as they chased each other through shallow water, armed with bright plastic water guns.
The air carried everything at once—salt, smoke, laughter, life.
At first, Vincenzo stayed silent.
His free hand slid into his pocket, his posture still alert, still controlled, his gaze sweeping the surroundings like he was evaluating risks even in a place like this.
But slowly...
Subtly...
His shoulders loosened just a fraction.
His steps matched mine more naturally.
And for the first time, his focus wasn’t entirely on control.
He watched what I watched.
The ocean itself—
The way the late sun caught the surface, turning it into something molten.
Something almost... beautiful.
And for a few quiet moments—
We walked like this.
I caught myself watching Dante.
