“Take many pictures for me, because I want to see her smile,” I replied softly, attempting to sound stronger than I felt.
Several hours later, my phone vibrated against the metal bedside table, its sudden movement jolting me awake from restless half sleep. The screen illuminated Maya’s cheerful message, filled with enthusiastic excitement that instantly warmed my aching heart. She had written about sandcastles, crashing waves, and laughter shared with her father beneath the bright afternoon sun. Then came the selfie, which captured her radiant grin along with Colin standing proudly behind her like a devoted parent enjoying precious time.
For a brief, blissful moment, relief flooded my thoughts before my eyes wandered toward the distant background near the shoreline. My breath stalled abruptly, as if the world itself had paused in silent recognition of something deeply unsettling. There, standing ankle deep in shallow water, appeared a man whose presence shattered the fragile calm I had been desperately trying to preserve. Logan Pierce, a name I had not spoken aloud in nearly ten years, stared directly toward the camera with an expression devoid of warmth or coincidence.