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But I’m wrong.

One morning, on the third week of my trip, I step outside Lavender House to find myself face-to-face with a gaping mouth lined with razor-sharp fangs. A yelp escapes me as I leap back.

“What is it?” Karmela calls, hurrying to the entryway.

I peer out into the blinding sunlight. Some sort of creature hangs in the doorway, suspended by a rope. It has a slick, bulbous body and a long fin, reeking strongly of brine. A throng of flies hovers around it, crawling over its skin and into its slack jaw. As it slowly swivels, dripping with god knows what, its filmy white eyes lock on me. “A monster,” I say.

Karmela gasps, then scoffs with disgust. “Grdobina,” she snarls. The ugly one. The name is accurate. It’s the most hideous fish I’ve ever seen.

“Get Luka,” she tells me, pointing to the house beside us.

I obey, shuddering as I duck past the fish. When I knock on Luka’s door, his mom shrinks back. “What do you want?” she asks curtly in Croatian.

I cower beneath her tone, unsure if she’s only surprised or something else—but my concern is quickly swept away by the sight of Luka, his hair mussed with sleep.

“Can we get your help with something?” I ask him.

He gives me a curious look before following me back to the house. “What the—”

“I know. What the hell is it?”

“It’s called monkfish,” he explains. With a grimace, he cuts the rope hanging from the door lamp with a knife and deposits it into a bag.

“Stupid teenagers,” Karmela mutters, kicking dirt toward it. “They like to play tricks.”

“Do you think that’s what happened?” I ask Luka hesitantly.

“Not sure,” he murmurs, his expression dark. “I’ll get rid of it though. See you tonight?”

“Yeah.”

Once Luka leaves, Karmela returns to the kitchen, making coffee as if nothing happened. But uneasiness clings to me all day, like tiny teeth digging in.

Later that evening, Luka and I sit atop an old fortress—built in the sixteenth century to protect against pirates, according to him. We’re both drinking beer, admiring the town below, glowing windows and silvery moonlight slicing across the sea. The sky above is dusted with stars upon stars, far more than I’ve ever seen.

I take a sip of beer, trying to focus as Luka tells a story about how he’d once fallen asleep in the same spot as a child. Fjaka had caught him, apparently, spurring the island into a frenzied search, only for him to wake up hours later, well rested, oblivious to the chaos he’d caused. It’s a good story, and he tells it well, but I’m distracted.

“Hey,” Luka says gently. “Is something wrong?”

I toy with a loose rock, trying to untangle my thoughts. “I keep thinking of this photo Karmela showed me of my parents, here on Tolba. My mom looked like a different person, so young and happy and carefree . . .” I pause, unsure if I should go on, but the words come out anyway. “This might sound silly, but I guess I thought that being here, maybe I’d find that kind of happiness too. That I would finally find the place I belonged.”

Luka leans forward, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. His eyes are soft as they linger on me, ink black; it’s the same look he had as he studied the stars. A little solemn, a little quiet—yet brimming with yearning.

“What’s so silly about that?” he asks.

“I guess . . .” I think of the monkfish strung up like a warning. The shady looks I get walking through town. If I didn’t have Luka, then I wouldn’t feel so comfortable here. The thought makes me both grateful and frightened of losing him.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I guess I’m not sure if I’ll ever truly fit in.”

“Pomalo, remember?” he says, though his tone seems strained.

“Yeah.”

A chill breeze slips by, raising goose bumps along my arms. “Maybe I should head back,” I say, moving toward the stairs we took up the fortress.

Luka lingers along the wall, as if he’s about to say something else. But then he only murmurs, “Be careful on the way down,” casting my shoes a wary glance.

“I will.” I’m wearing the same shoes I wore when I first arrived, vintage Manolos with a low heel. Elegant, but entirely impractical for climbing centuries-old stone structures. In my defense, I told him I hadn’t known our night would lead here. Though secretly, I don’t regret it, not after the hungry glance he gave my legs when I met him outside Ko Doma.