"Why did you leave?" he whispered, his hands white-knuckled on the rudder.
He stepped into a small, weathered skiff. The engine coughed to life, a rhythmic heartbeat against the silence. As he steered away from the pier, the familiar sights—the lighthouse, the cannery, the jagged cliffs—dissolved into the mist. "Why did you leave
Elias finally turned. The seat was empty. Only a small, wet pebble sat where she might have been—a piece of sea glass, worn smooth by a decade of tides. "Why did you leave?" he whispered