Love Without Measure

17. Waves of Yesterday

The year was 2000, and the salty air of Marseille seemed to carry more than just the scent of the Mediterranean. It carried memories, dreams, and the ghosts of things left unsaid.

Carla stood at the edge of the old port, the sound of the waves crashing against the dock beneath her feet. Her dark hair was swept back by the wind, and her eyes—deep and thoughtful—looked out across the water as if searching for something, or perhaps someone.

It was the summer when she first met Etienne.

He had been everything she had ever wanted: passionate, full of life, with a fire in his eyes that seemed to rival the setting sun. A painter, he spent most of his time capturing the beauty of Marseille—its sun-soaked streets, its rich history, and the vibrant sea that defined the city. They met on a humid evening at a café by the water, the lights of the boats in the distance twinkling like stars. Etienne had sat at a table by the window, sketching something in his worn leather notebook, when he noticed her walking past. He had called out to her in a thick, melodic accent, and something about his voice made her pause.

"I swear, the colors of the sea will never do you justice," he had said, his eyes never leaving the sketchbook in his hands.

Carla laughed, a sound that felt too loud for the quiet of the evening, and turned to face him. "And how do you know the colors of the sea?"

Etienne had looked up at her then, as though seeing her for the first time. "Because," he said, "the sea has a way of making everything beautiful. Especially when you're looking at it with the right person."

The spark between them had been instantaneous.

They spent the days exploring the narrow, sun-drenched streets of the Old Port, sharing intimate conversations in cafes, and walking along the shoreline as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. Etienne painted while Carla watched, her heart growing heavier with each passing moment. She didn't know when it happened, but somewhere between the laughter and the stolen glances, she had fallen in love with him.

Etienne, for his part, had been captivated by Carla's quiet strength. She was unlike anyone he had ever known—smart, kind, with a beauty that wasn't just on the surface. He found himself drawing her into his paintings, capturing moments that no one else could see.

But love, it seemed, wasn't enough to hold them together.

Carla had a secret she couldn't share with him, a burden that weighed on her soul like the deepest of waters. Her father, a man she barely knew, had been lost in a terrible accident years ago, leaving her with a fractured family and unresolved pain. She had lived her life keeping everyone at arm's length, terrified of losing those she loved most. And as much as she had tried to push that fear away with Etienne, it kept resurfacing. She couldn't love him the way he deserved to be loved.

One night, in the heat of an argument, the truth slipped out.

"I'm afraid, Etienne," she said, her voice shaking as tears blurred her vision. "Afraid of loving you. Afraid of losing you like I lost my father, like I lost everyone else. I can't... I can't do this."

Etienne, with his paint-streaked hands and soft, understanding eyes, had looked at her as though he could see the ache in her heart. He didn't say anything at first. Instead, he reached for her, pulling her close, whispering softly, "You don't have to be afraid, Carla. Love is not about losing. It's about holding on, even when everything else feels uncertain."

But Carla couldn't bring herself to believe him. The fear—her fear—had already taken root deep within her, and no amount of love could remove it.

The next day, she left.