The waves were brutal that morning, slapping the cliffs like fists. Lina stood at the garden's edge, cigarette between her lips, her hair loose and damp. The sun hadn't fully risen, and the world looked half-drowned in silver.
She didn't hear Milo approach until he offered her a steaming mug.
"Coffee. Black. You looked like you needed something to hold onto."
She accepted it without a word. Sipped. Said, "I remembered something else."
He waited.
"His watch. I was holding it. Clutching it like a damn relic. I don't remember how I got it. But I saw it in the dream—my hand wrapped around it, tight. There was blood on the glass."
Milo didn't flinch. "Where is it now?"
She shook her head. "Gone. I must've lost it. Or threw it in the sea."
He leaned on the stone wall beside her. "You think that means something?"
"I think… he was trying to leave. That night. I think he packed a bag. He said he was done. That I was too much. Too broken."
"And you snapped?"
She glanced at him. "Would you believe me if I said no?"
Milo looked away. "I don't know. I've seen what grief can do. Good men hold dying friends in their arms and pray like animals. You can't always tell what someone's capable of until it's too late."
She stepped closer to him, lowering her voice. "Do you think I killed him?"
He met her eyes. "I think you're scared enough of yourself that you might never know."
Lina exhaled sharply and turned back toward the sea. "The manuscript—whoever's been leaving pages—they want me to remember. They want me to see something I've buried."
"Or someone wants to break you."
A silence fell. Then she whispered, "What if it's both?"
That evening, Lina went to the attic. She hadn't been up there since her first day. Dust shimmered in the thin shafts of light, and old trunks lined the far wall like coffins.
She opened one. Letters. Photos. A velvet box with a film camera inside.
And at the bottom, a crumpled raincoat.
She pulled it out slowly, hands trembling. Something hard hit the floor with a dull thud.
A watch. Cracked glass. The leather strap stiffens with time.
Milo's voice behind her startled her: "You found it."
She turned. "How long have you known it was here?"
"I didn't. I recognized the sound. When it hit the ground. I've heard that exact sound before."
Lina stared at the watch. "This changes everything."
"Or confirms what you already feared."
She clutched the watch. Her voice broke. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I just wanted him to listen."
Milo stepped forward. "Sometimes we don't get to control the outcome. Only the aftermath."
She nodded slowly, eyes on the shattered face of the watch. "Then help me clean this up. All of it."
Milo knelt beside her, his hand over hers. "We will. Together. Even if it destroys us."
She almost laughed, bitter and tired. "Maybe that's the only honest way to start again."
Outside, the wind howled. Inside, two broken people held onto something small—but real.
And the truth, after so long, no longer felt like a weapon. Just weight shared. unravelling