Asha stirred beneath the thin blanket, the hum of the van's engine rocking her between waking and sleep. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sea salt, fur-soft shampoo, and yesterday's coffee. She blinked drowsily—just in time for a sharp, excited tapping on her shoulder.
"We're here! We're here!" Jane's voice rang like a bell, her sunglasses askew and her sunhat threatening to take flight despite being indoors.
Asha pushed herself upright, rubbing her eyes. "Already?"
"Yep!" Jane grinned, beaming with energy no human should have before noon. "Time to unleash the beach beast within!"
From the front seat, Ben turned around, his face a portrait of confusion. "Wait. I thought we were going to a mountain?"
Jane rolled her eyes so hard it was almost audible. "Ben, that was last month's staff meeting. This is the beach outing. Marina's treat, remember?"
"Ohhh." Ben nodded solemnly. "So I didn't need to bring my hiking boots?"
Asha stifled a laugh as Jane groaned dramatically.
Outside, the van doors slid open, and sunlight poured in—a sheet of gold spilling across the sand. The sea stretched endlessly, glittering under a soft breeze.
Marina stood beside her sleek car, already looking like she belonged on a travel magazine cover: wide-brimmed hat, linen dress, lemon water in hand. Even the seagulls seemed to adjust their flight paths for her.
"Welcome," she greeted, voice smooth as a tide. "I hope the ride wasn't too chaotic."
Ben tripped over his own flip-flop. "Define chaotic."
"He means yes," Jane said, giving him a shove.
Asha stepped onto the sand, feeling its warmth seep through her sandals. Around them, other employees were arriving—baristas, groomers, clinic staff. It was a rare gathering of Marina's small empire, laughter spilling like sunlight on water.
The villa stood like a pearl by the sea—white walls kissed by sunlight, curtains fluttering like sails. Marina, serene as always, stood at the entrance with her lemon water.
"Come in, everyone," she said, smiling. "Make yourselves at home."
Jane didn't need telling twice. "Beach villa, baby!" she squealed, grabbing Asha's wrist and charging forward like a caffeinated dolphin.
Asha stumbled after her, laughing—until a gust of wind swept through the courtyard. Jane's sunhat lifted off her head like a startled bird.
"My hat!" Jane cried, breaking away to chase it.
Asha turned sharply, following the hat's flight as it spun through the air. The wind tugged at her hair, warm and salt-sweet, and just as she reached out instinctively—she collided with someone.
"Oof—sorry!" she gasped, steadying herself.
The person—a quiet staff member from the coffee shop—murmured, "It's fine," and slipped past her.
Asha barely registered their face, but the brush of contact had knocked her mask slightly askew.
And that was enough.
The scent rushed in—soft and rounded, like steamed rice and gardenia steeped in morning light. It was the warmth of life before breath, untouched and waiting. But beneath it ran a thread of iron, the faint sting of antiseptic gauze. The quiet ache of something unfinished.
Asha's breath caught.
Before she could process it, a voice called out from the path.
"Marina! Cousin—you're finally here!"
Asha turned to see a man approaching with open arms, sunburned and smiling, a woman beside him carrying a box of pastries.
Marina's lips curved faintly. "You're late."
The couple laughed, stepping into the shade of the villa. Staff milled around them, voices bright and carefree.
Asha adjusted her mask. The scent dulled. Faded. But the memory of it lingered like a whisper she couldn't unhear.
Jane returned, triumphant with her hat. "Did you see that? I almost lost it to the sea gods!"
Asha smiled faintly, but her gaze drifted.
Inside the villa, the air was cool and citrus-scented, curtains swaying like gentle waves. Asha knelt by her bag, unpacking with quiet precision. But her thoughts were adrift—haunted by the scent that clung to her memory.
It had been soft and sweet, the smell of freshly laundered baby clothes and unopened lullabies. But under that sweetness lingered the faint, metallic tang of endings—the sterile chill of something that would never begin.
Jane flopped onto the bed beside her, limbs spread like a starfish.
"You look like you're about to astral project," she said, squinting. "Is this post-van trauma? Do you need electrolytes? A forehead kiss? A dramatic rescue?"
Asha blinked, then smiled faintly. "I'm fine."
Jane frowned. "That's what people say right before they faint and get rescued by a lifeguard named Chad."
Asha chuckled softly, folding another shirt. "Do you know the couple who arrived earlier? The ones who called out to Marina?"
Jane perked up instantly. "Oh! Denver and Kira. Yeah, they're kind of a big deal."
Asha looked up. "Big deal?"
"Denver's Marina's cousin—paternal side," Jane said, gesturing dramatically. "He's the tan one who always brings pastries. And Kira—well, she's the it's-white."
Asha blinked. "The… it's-white?"
Jane nodded sagely. "White walls. White curtains. White sand. White dog named Mochi. She's the aesthetic overlord."
Asha hesitated, then asked quietly, "Is she… pregnant?"
Jane frowned, thinking. "Kira? Maybe? They've been married a few years. Why?"
"No reason," Asha murmured, smoothing the hem of her sundress.
Jane's eyes narrowed with mock suspicion. "Wait. Is this about Denver?"
Asha blinked, startled. "What?"
Jane gasped. "Asha! No! That man is married!" She clasped her chest dramatically. "Marina will smite you with her heels and banish you to the espresso machine forever."
Asha groaned softly, dragging a palm down her face.
Jane pointed accusingly. "That's not a denial! You've got the look. The 'I smelled his cologne and now I'm writing poetry' look."
Asha ignored her, folding her towel with deliberate calm.
Jane sighed and flopped back on the bed. "Fine. But if I catch you doodling hearts around 'Denver,' I'm staging an intervention. With snacks."
Just then, the door creaked open and Ben peeked inside, sunglasses crooked and towel draped over his shoulder like a cape.
"Hey," he said. "Are you guys unpacking or meditating?"
"Both," Jane said without missing a beat. "Why?"
"Marina said the beach trail's open. There's snacks. And hammocks. And I think I saw a goat."
Jane bolted upright. "A goat? Where?"
"Near the coconut trees. Or maybe it was a dog. It had a vibe."
Jane gasped. "Say no more! Asha, come on—we're going to find the goat-dog."
Asha stood slowly, glancing once more toward the window.
The scent had faded, but not vanished. It lingered beneath the laughter, woven between the linen curtains.
Something was waiting.
And Asha could still smell its shadow.