The pebbles under my feet are warm, the sun kissing them all afternoon, and the salty breeze plays with my damp hair. I've just come out of the water, the coolness still clinging to my skin, and I sink into the towel spread beneath the striped umbrella. It's quiet, only the sound of the waves rolling in, steady and rhythmic, like a heartbeat that keeps time for no one but itself.

There's only one chair today. One towel. One person. And for now, that's enough. I'm learning to sit with the silence, to let it wrap around me like the breeze, soft and weightless. There's a strange comfort in this moment, a peace I didn't know I needed, though it comes with a bittersweet ache. I tell myself it's okay. That being alone doesn't mean being lonely, not always.

Still, I can't help but glance at the empty space beside me, imagining another chair, another presence. Maybe it'll come. Maybe it won't. The hope flickers, dimmer than before, but not yet gone. The sea stretches out endlessly, and somewhere out there, maybe, is a story that hasn't been written yet. Until then, I'll keep sitting here, with the waves and the wind as my only company, and carry that quiet, stubborn hope in my heart.