A whisper beneath the waves

The Tides That Call

The sea moved like a great, breathing being, inhaling as the waves gathered, exhaling as they melted into the shore, leaving foamy lace at Ayu's feet. He waded a few steps deeper, feeling the cool water press against his skin, grounding him in a way nothing else could. The world around him was quiet yet alive, bathed in the muted colors of twilight—the sky a blend of purples and deep blues, holding onto the last threads of the day's light.

Ayu's eyes drifted over the horizon, where the sun lingered, casting a golden sheen over the water. It was a view he'd seen a thousand times, yet each dusk felt new, as if this place, this beach, held an untold promise just waiting to be whispered. Here, in the space between day and night, he felt a different kind of freedom, one that let him breathe beyond the narrow confines of his life—his family, his duties, the expectations placed on him.

As the sea breeze tugged at his hair, Ayu let his mind wander, remembering the poem verses he'd memorized in secret, the words that had spoken to some hidden part of him. Poems of longing, of love that bloomed in the shadows. He'd always felt those words, even if he'd never lived them.

Lost in thought, Ayu didn't notice the figure at the edge of the shore until he turned, the movement breaking his trance. A tall, lean silhouette stood against the darkening sky, partly obscured by the shadow of a palmyrah tree. Ayu tensed instinctively. Strangers were rare in this small, unchanging village, especially as the evening descended, and he couldn't help but wonder what had brought this man here.

The stranger stepped forward, his posture relaxed, the camera around his neck glinting briefly in the fading light. Ayu observed him from a distance, noting the easy grace with which he moved, as if he belonged to a different world. His skin was a shade or two lighter than Ayu's, his clothes neat but informal—a loose shirt, slightly wrinkled from travel, and jeans dusted with sand. Something about his presence was magnetic, unsettling, as though he had stirred the very air around them.

And then the man's gaze found him, holding Ayu's eyes across the sand. A slow smile spread across the stranger's face, warm and open, without a hint of judgment. Ayu's heart thudded in his chest, his throat tight with a sensation he couldn't name.
The stranger lifted a hand in a small wave, his expression gentle and unguarded. Ayu felt his own lips part in surprise.

Why hadn't he looked away? Why did he feel rooted in place, unable to break the thread of connection that now stretched between them?

After a brief pause, Ayu raised a hand in response, a hesitant, almost reluctant acknowledgment. The man's smile widened, reaching his eyes, which crinkled at the corners. The effect was disarming, like a candle lit in the dark, and Ayu couldn't help but feel that this stranger carried a light he hadn't known he needed.

The man took a step forward, closing the distance between them, his feet sinking softly into the wet sand.

"Beautiful sunset, isn't it?"

he said, his voice a gentle murmur over the waves. His accent held an unfamiliar melody—almost his own, yet different, softer, as if touched by a thousand stories Ayu would never know.

Ayu nodded, his voice stuck somewhere deep in his chest, tangled in the sharp awareness of this man's presence. He didn't trust himself to speak, afraid of revealing too much, even in the simplicity of his tone. But the stranger's gaze held his, calm and kind, as though he'd seen the hidden parts of Ayu and accepted them.

The man extended a hand.

"I'm Shayel. Shayel Avihan Aradhya"

he said, the name falling from his lips like an invitation, as if he were offering Ayu something precious, something that could be kept close to the heart.