I took leave from work because pretending to function felt impossible. Flying planes, following procedures, smiling at colleagues, none of it mattered anymore. The only thing that made sense was searching for Anthony. As long as I was doing something or anything, I could still breathe.
The ocean had taken him from me. And until it gave him back, I refused to stop looking.
At first, there was purpose in it. Search boats combed the waters. Divers went out at dawn. Officers called with updates, small ones, hopeful ones. I clung to every detail like it meant something. Like it meant he was still out there.
But days passed. Then weeks.
The water stayed silent.
Every morning, I stood at the harbor with the same quiet ritual, coffee gone cold in my hands, eyes fixed on the horizon. I waited for a sign. A boat. A ripple. Something that said this wasn't over yet.
The waves rolled in and out, indifferent. Endless. Cruel in their calm.
Nothing ever changed.
The calls from the police grew farther apart. Voices that once sounded determined became careful, restrained. Eventually, the phone stopped ringing altogether.
They weren't searching anymore.
I knew it without being told. I could hear it in what they didn't say. We're doing everything we can turned into we'll let you know if anything changes. Hope drained slowly, quietly, like water slipping through fingers.
Justine stayed close. She brought food I barely touched, sat with me when I stared too long at nothing. I saw the worry in her eyes, the way she watched me like I might disappear if she looked away. She tried to pull me back into the world, but I wasn't just losing Anthony anymore.
I was losing myself.
I walked the shoreline for hours every day, my feet numb, my thoughts circling the same unbearable truth. I told myself I was still searching, but deep down, I knew I was stalling. If I stopped, if I accepted what everyone else already had, something inside me would break completely.
So I kept going.
Every evening, as the sky burned orange and pink, I whispered to the ocean like it could hear me.
Please. Come back.
It never answered.
One night, the wind was sharp against my skin, the waves crashing harder than usual. I stood there longer than I should have, my body shaking not just from the cold, but from the weight of it all finally settling in.
I can't do this forever.
The thought scared me more than anything else. Somewhere along the way, the search had stopped being about finding Anthony and started being about holding on to the idea that he wasn't really gone.
And that idea was slipping.
The days blurred together after that. Time lost its shape. My world shrank to grief, exhaustion, and an emptiness that followed me everywhere. I had no answers. No certainty. Just this endless waiting.
One morning, I stood at the pier again, my hands gripping the cold railing. The horizon looked the same as it always did, it is vast and empty.
"Serene."
I turned to see Justine approaching slowly, like she was afraid she might shatter whatever was holding me together.
She stood beside me without speaking. She never forced words when I didn't have any left.
"I don't know how much longer I can do this," I whispered finally. "What if he's really gone?"
She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. "You don't have to carry this alone."
"I don't know how to stop," I said. "If I stop searching, it feels like I'm choosing to lose him."
She was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly, "Maybe stopping doesn't mean giving up. Maybe it means letting yourself breathe."
Before I could answer, a familiar voice interrupted us.
"Ms. Clarke."
Officer Ramirez stood a few steps away, his expression heavy. I already knew what he was going to say. My body reacted before my mind did, heart sinking, chest tightening.
"We're officially closing the case," he said gently. "After extensive efforts, we've concluded that Mr. Collins drowned."
The words landed slowly, like something heavy settling onto my chest.
"I'm so sorry," he continued. "We exhausted every resource available."
I nodded, even though nothing inside me agreed. "You're sure?"
He met my eyes. "Yes."
That was it. No more searching. No more waiting.
Just... absence.
I went to Anthony's house afterward. I don't know why, maybe because it was the last place he felt real.
The door opened to silence.
His jacket still hung on the chair. His shoes were by the door. A mug sat on the counter like he'd just stepped away for a moment. Everything felt paused, frozen in a life that no longer existed.
I picked up a photo of us, we were laughing, sunburned, happy. My chest tightened as I pressed it to myself.
That night, I stood on the balcony, the ocean stretching endlessly in the distance.
"Why did you leave like this?" I whispered. "All I wanted was more time."
The waves crashed below, loud and unrelenting.
"I don't know how to do this without you," I said. "I don't know how to stay."
For a moment, a dangerous, fleeting moment, I thought about disappearing into that endless dark. About letting the ocean take me too, just so the ache would stop.
But something inside me hesitated.
A small, fragile voice, barely there whispered not yet.
I sank to the floor, sobbing, grief tearing through me in waves as relentless as the sea itself.
I wasn't ready to let go.
But I was still here.
And somehow, that had to be enough, for now.