A Mermaid for the Lonely

𝒜𝓌𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃 𝒮𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑒

The wind howled against the shore, carrying with it the salty breath of the sea. Sirène lingered just beyond the surf, her milky white skin gleaming against the dark waves as she watched the man lying unconscious on the sand. His body lay limp where she had placed him, the edge of the water gently lapping at his legs. She remained still, her gaze fixed on him with a curiosity she couldn't name.

His appearance was striking, yet fragile. Dark, tousled brown hair clung wetly to his forehead, tangled and windblown from his fall. His pale skin had taken on an almost ghostly hue in the dim light of the overcast sky, marred only by a beauty mark beneath his right eye. His hazel-green eyes, now closed, bore deep shadows beneath them, signs of exhaustion or perhaps long nights of torment. His clothes, loose and airy, seemed too big for his thin frame, as if they no longer belonged to the person he once was.

She hovered in the water, uncertain. Usually, her task was simple—guide souls who had perished at sea to their final rest. Yet this man had not yet died, though the emptiness in his expression as he had fallen from the cliffs suggested he might have wished for it.

His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and a part of her, instinctual and ancient, whispered that she should leave him. It wasn't her place to interfere with the living, only the dead. But something held her back, the pull of a question she couldn't shake.

Why had he fallen so easily?

She moved closer, the cool water rippling around her dark pink tail as she glided toward him. Her silver eyes traced the outline of his face, noting the way the sea droplets clung to his lashes, the slight part of his lips as he breathed. This man had chosen death—but why?

For a moment, Sirène's usual seriousness wavered. She hesitated, then gently touched his shoulder, shaking him lightly. His body stirred beneath her hand, a faint groan escaping his lips as he began to regain consciousness. She pulled back, watching with quiet intensity.

The man blinked, his hazel-green eyes opening slowly, unfocused at first as if the world before him was a distant memory. He stared up at the sky, confusion clouding his gaze before it sharpened with recognition. His eyes flitted downward, settling on the figure in the water. Sirène's silver eyes met his.

They held each other's gaze in silence for a long moment. His expression shifted from confusion to something darker, more hollow, as if he realized that he had not died. His mouth opened, a dry sound escaping his lips as he tried to speak.

"Why...?" he whispered, his voice hoarse, like someone who hadn't spoken in a long time. "Why didn't you let me fall?"

Sirène tilted her head slightly, her long pink hair flowing behind her, catching the wind. She had no answer for him, no reason that made sense. She had never interfered like this before, never questioned the pull of fate. But here, now, standing on the edge of something unknown, she found herself drawn to him, to the sorrow that lingered beneath his gaze.

"I don't know," she said quietly, her voice like the soft murmur of the ocean. Her words felt foreign to her, as though she was breaking some unspoken law by even speaking them. "I just... caught you."

His eyes narrowed, something like anger flickering behind the exhaustion. He tried to push himself up, his limbs weak and trembling. "You shouldn't have." His voice was low, filled with a bitterness that made Sirène pause. "I didn't ask to be saved."

Sirène said nothing. She watched as he struggled to sit up, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he leaned against the sand, staring out at the water. He looked like a man haunted by something—something he couldn't escape.

He closed his eyes for a moment, his head tilted back as though he was listening to the sound of the waves. "I wasn't meant to be here," he muttered, almost to himself. His tone was filled with quiet resignation.

Sirène felt a strange twinge in her chest. It wasn't an emotion—not exactly—but something close to it. "What were you meant to be?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He didn't answer her question, but his eyes opened again, staring out at the sea. "I shouldn't have come back," he said softly. "I wanted to be with her."