“I just want to go home after that,” Sofia murmured. “To Ericeira. To Elvira. To something normal.”
He tightened his hold on her. “We’ll go. And I’ll help.”
She looked up at him, eyes still red-rimmed but trying. Always trying.
“You’ll love Morocco,” he said, his voice low. “Maybe going back with you… maybe that’ll help.”
“Why?”
He hesitated, watching the way the afternoon light cast gold across her face.
“Because sometimes… It feels like my dad’s ghost is still there. Watching me. Judging me for how badly I handled things. But your dad… he gave me something I didn’t know I needed. A conversation I never got to have with mine.”
Sofia smiled faintly. “Papà knew what he was doing.”
And then silence fell between them again—easy, familiar. The kind that wrapped around grief and made it less lonely.
Sofia wept quietly into his shoulder. It had become a part of their days. Grief didn’t ask permission, it just arrived. And he would be there—however long it took.
57
SOFIA
Ovunque Sarai – Irama
Ilias was right.Morocco was beautiful. As soon as they landed in Agadir, she looked out the window of the car they had rented with awe in her eyes. It was her first time in North Africa, and the colors reminded her a lot of the South of Spain.
The terracotta dunes, the white and blue buildings, the laid-back vibe of Imsouane felt both foreign and familiar. Like a slice of Ericeira wrapped in Moroccan tradition. From the moment she arrived, Sofia knew that whatever Ilias, Amira and Ghita were planning to build here, it was going to work. If they could just manage to stop Thomas from interfering and building a monster right in front of the ocean and destroying that little fisherman village.
With Ilias, they had agreed that before diving into business research and talking to other local owners, they needed a surf session. The swell was ideal for longboarding at The Bay, andsince Azul was a surf school right in front of the beach, boards were plentiful, but not quite what she'd expected.
“You really need an upgrade.” Sofia grimaced, running her hand over a foam board that looked like it had been in a bar brawl with a reef.
“I told him,” Ghita deadpanned, arms crossed.
They had hit it off instantly. Ghita, in her early twenties, was a whirlwind of life and vision. She had big dreams for Azul, and Sofia had no doubt she’d pull it off. Something about her reminded her of a blend of herself and Alejandra at that age.
“Do you know how much new boards cost?” Ilias groaned, rubbing his eyes as he inspected a shortboard that looked passable at best. “And we just got out of debt.”
“Maybe Salacia could help,” Sofia offered.
“You just sent back 200k, habiba. You're doing great, but notthatgreat.”
Crossing her arms, she shot him a deadly stare. “I meant more as a collaboration. We could offer boat tours from Salacia when the retreat launches. Like branching out from just Ericeira. We just need… a boat.”
“Uncle had one,” Ghita chimed in, excited. “But it’s in rough shape.”
“I could take a look at it.”
“You know how to fix boats?” Ilias raised an eyebrow—half amused, half impressed.
“I don’t like how skeptical that sounded. The real question is: why don’t you know how to fix one?”
Ilias shrugged. “I’m a surfer, not a mechanic.”
Sofia gave him a look. “Anyway, what I’m saying is—I want to help. I want to help turn Azul into everything you dream of, Ghita.”
“I love her,” Ghita squealed, pulling her into a hug and giving Ilias a pointed look. “If you don’t marry him, please marry me.”
