The Girl by the Water

The sea was quiet today.
Too quiet.

Sofi sat on the same patch of sand she always returned to. Same week, every year. Same time. Same tide.

She didn’t bring flowers this time.
Didn’t bring photos or letters or offerings.
Just herself.

And a cassette.

The original one. The real one. Not the digital file El had cleaned up. This was the one that still held the scratches, the warping, the accidental smudges from her sister’s thumb.

She pressed it to her chest and stared at the water.

FLASHBACK – Two years ago

It was supposed to be a quick trip.
Her sister loved the ocean. Said it made her feel weightless — like nothing could reach her under the waves.

Sofi hated the water.

Not because she couldn’t swim.
But because she always felt like the sea watched her.

That day, her sister went ahead.

“I’ll warm up the water for you!” she laughed, running toward the shore.

Sofi had rolled her eyes, told her to wait.
Her phone had 7% battery. She went back to the homestay to charge it.

“Ten minutes,” she said. “Don’t be dramatic.”

She took sixteen.

When she returned, the towel was there. The shoes. The sunscreen bottle, half open.

The sea was quiet.

Too quiet.

FLASHBACK CONTINUES – Evening

She screamed her sister’s name for hours.
Her voice cracked by the second hour.
Her knees gave out by the third.

People came.
Search crews. Fishermen. A man from the music studio. She didn’t remember his face — just that he had blood on his shirt and panic in his voice.

“She was already gone,” someone said.
“He pulled her out, but…”

But nothing.

BACK TO PRESENT – Sofi at the beach

The waves kissed her ankles gently, like they were apologizing.

She didn’t cry.
She hadn’t cried in a while.

That was the problem.

“She always hummed when she was near water,” Sofi whispered.
“Like she thought the sea would sing back if she gave it something first.”

She pressed play on the tiny recorder.
The hum played again — faint, distorted, beautiful.

She didn’t say anything after that.
Just listened. Eyes closed.

Until she heard footsteps.

SCENE SHIFT – El walks up behind her, barefoot

He didn’t say anything either.
Didn’t ask if he could sit.
He just did.

Side by side, they stared at the sea.

“It’s quiet today,” El said softly.

“It always is. On the anniversary.”

She handed him the cassette recorder.
He held it carefully, like it might vanish if he gripped it too tight.

“She always hummed like that?” he asked.

“Yeah. Like she was writing songs the world didn’t deserve.”

“She sounds brave.”

Sofi nodded.

“She was. Braver than me.”

El didn’t respond.

But he didn’t let go of the cassette either.

The waves by the Beach humbly crashes.

In the distance, the sea stretched wide and endless.
The sky dipped low, painted in soft grays and lavender blues.

Two people sat by the water.
One carrying guilt.
The other, a memory trying to return.

Neither of them said goodbye.