The bottle sat forgotten next to me now.
I hadn't meant to drink that much. I hadn't meant to cry at all. I think I just needed something to fill the space he used to take up.
But nothing helped.
The porch was cold. My blanket wasn't doing much, and my legs were stiff from sitting too long, but I didn't move.
I stared out at the ocean.
Still. Wide. Unbothered.
Like it hadn't felt a thing.
I sat there until the stars came out.
And then—without thinking—I got up.
I left the blanket behind, grabbed the bottle, and wandered down the path toward the shore, feet dragging against the sand. The sea was calm, glowing silver in the moonlight. I stood at the edge of it, wind brushing through my hair, bottle still dangling from my fingers.
I don't know how long I stood there.
Just watching.
Waiting for something.
And then—
He was there.
Alan.
Quiet, like always. No warning. No sound. Just him.
He didn't speak right away.
Neither did I.
I blinked slowly. "It's really you?"
He nodded. "It's me."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"I thought maybe I imagined all of it," I said. "The fishing. The biking. That stupid poetry book."
"No," he said gently. "You didn't imagine any of it."
I looked at him.
"You left."
"I had to."
"Why?" I asked. Not accusing. Just… needing.
He stepped closer, his movements slower than usual. He looked different tonight. Not fading. Just… softer. Lighter.
"I stayed longer than I was supposed to," he said. "But I didn't want to go without seeing you again."
I looked down at my hands. "You could've told me."
"I couldn't," he said quietly. "You were the first thing in a long time that made me feel real again. I didn't want to lose that."
I swallowed hard. My eyes stung.
"You didn't feel like a ghost," I whispered. "You felt like home."
Alan stood beside me now. Close enough to feel like he was still real. Still here.
"You gave me more than you know," he said. "For a little while, it was like I got to live again. Because of you."
A tear slipped down my cheek.
"I would've still chosen it," I said. "Even knowing how it ends. I would've still wanted you."
"I know."
The wind moved between us. Soft. Slow. The kind of quiet that didn't feel empty.
"I don't want to forget you," I said.
"You won't," he said. "I'll be with you, even when I'm not."
I looked at him, and for a moment, he smiled — soft, real.
"Will I see you again?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
But I already knew.
Alan stepped back, then turned toward the path.
"Come on," he said.
"What?"
"Let me walk you back."
I hesitated.
Then I followed.
We didn't speak.
Just the sound of our footsteps in the sand. The ocean behind us. The stars above.
When we reached the steps of the cottage, I turned to him.
"Thank you," I said.
"For what?"
"For everything."
He nodded once. Then reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
His touch was light. Barely there. But I felt it.
"Elaina," he said softly.
"Yeah?"
"You were the best part of this."
I didn't speak. Couldn't.
He stepped back.
And just like that—
He was gone.