The wind howled across the coastline, carrying the sharp tang of salt and the promise of a storm. Mira stood at the edge of the beach, her sneakers sinking into the damp sand as waves crashed against the shore. The sky was a bruise of gray and violet, heavy with clouds that mirrored the turmoil in her chest. She hadn't planned to come here, to this stretch of sea just a short walk from her apartment. But tonight, the walls of her room had felt like they were closing in, suffocating her with the weight of her loneliness.
It had been weeks since Kael's hiatus was announced. Weeks since Mira had stopped messaging him, her heart bruised by the silence of her unread words. She'd thrown herself into her studies, memorizing medical terms and practicing sutures until her fingers ached, but it was a hollow distraction. Kael's absence gnawed at her, a quiet ache that flared into something unbearable tonight. His music, once her refuge, now felt like a betrayal—a reminder of a connection that had never truly existed.
Mira's hair whipped across her face, stinging her cheeks as she stared at the horizon. The sea was restless, its waves churning with a fury that matched her own. She didn't know why she was crying. The tears had started as a trickle, then a flood, streaming down her face to mingle with the mist. Maybe it was the stress of her exams, the endless pressure to be perfect. Maybe it was the loneliness that had settled into her bones, a companion she couldn't shake. Or maybe it was Kael—his smile, his voice, the foolish hope she'd pinned on a star she'd never touch.
"Why did you leave?" she whispered, her voice swallowed by the wind. She wasn't sure if she meant Kael or herself, for letting her heart get so tangled in someone she didn't know. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the sand, hugging her arms around herself as sobs shook her frame. The cold seeped through her jacket, but she didn't care. She wanted to feel something, anything, other than the emptiness that had taken root inside her.
The rain began to fall, soft at first, then harder, soaking her clothes and plastering her hair to her face. She tilted her head back, letting the drops mingle with her tears. It was a sad moment, one she'd later struggle to describe—a collision of grief and longing that felt like it could break her apart. She closed her eyes, imagining Kael's face, his warm brown eyes from the music videos she'd watched a hundred times. "I just wanted you to see me," she murmured, her voice breaking.
A sound broke through the storm—a soft crunch of footsteps on the sand. Mira's eyes snapped open, her heart lurching. She turned, expecting nothing but the wind, but there was someone there. A figure stood a few paces away, shrouded in the rain, holding a black umbrella that tilted against the gusts. The dim light from a distant streetlamp caught his silhouette, and Mira's breath caught. He was tall, his dark hair damp and falling into his eyes, his face half-hidden by the shadows. But she knew him. She'd know him anywhere.
"Kael?" The name slipped out, a desperate question. It couldn't be. It was impossible. She was delirious, projecting her longing onto a stranger. But then he stepped closer, and the light touched his features—those high cheekbones, the gentle curve of his lips, the eyes that held a depth she'd only seen on a screen. It was him.
"You were there," he said, his voice low and melancholic, carrying a weight that made her chest tighten. It wasn't the bright, polished voice of his performances. This was raw, tinged with something broken, something real. The umbrella tilted, shielding her from the rain, and she realized he was standing close now, close enough that she could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the weariness in his gaze.
Mira's mind reeled. She scrambled to her feet, her sneakers slipping in the sand. "What—what are you doing here?" Her voice trembled, caught between disbelief and fear that this was a hallucination. She wiped at her tears, embarrassed, but they kept coming, spilling over as she stared at him. "This isn't real. You're not real."
Kael's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I could say the same about you." He lowered the umbrella slightly, letting the rain touch his face, as if he needed to feel it to ground himself. "I saw you crying. I… I don't know why I'm here, but I had to come."
Her knees felt weak. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, trying to anchor her spinning thoughts. "You don't know me," she said, almost accusingly. "I'm nobody. Just… just some girl who sent you messages you never read." The words stung, a confession of her vulnerability, but she couldn't stop them. "Why are you here, Kael? Why now?"
He flinched, a subtle shift in his expression that she might have missed if she weren't watching him so closely. "I read them," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the storm. "Your messages. Not at first, but… later. They were different. You were different." He took a step closer, the umbrella fully covering her now, and she felt the warmth of his presence, a stark contrast to the cold rain. "I don't know how to explain it, Mira. But I felt you, even before tonight."
Her name on his lips was a shock, like a spark igniting something deep within her. "How do you know my name?" she whispered, her tears slowing but her heart racing. She hadn't signed her messages with her real name, only a username. This didn't make sense. None of it did.
Kael hesitated, his gaze dropping to the sand. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice raw with confusion. "It's like… I've always known you. Like I was supposed to find you here." He looked up, his eyes searching hers, and for a moment, the storm faded, leaving only the two of them in a bubble of quiet.
Mira's breath hitched. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to run away and never look back. But she couldn't move. His words, his presence, felt like a tether pulling her toward something she didn't understand. "This is crazy," she said, shaking her head. "You're Kael. You're an idol. I'm just… me."
"You're not just anything," he said softly, and the sincerity in his voice made her chest ache. He reached out, then stopped, his hand hovering as if afraid to break the moment. "Can we… talk? Just for a little while?"
She nodded, unable to speak. The rain pounded around them, but under the umbrella, it was as if time had paused. They sat on the damp sand, the sea roaring beside them, and began to talk—tentative words at first, then deeper, raw confessions. Mira spoke of her stress, her loneliness. Kael admitted his own struggles, the depression he hid from the world. It was surreal, impossible, but it was real. And as the storm raged on, Mira felt something shift inside her, a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as alone as she'd thought.