Chapter 10 - Sunrise Over the Bay
Six months later.
The quiet waves of the Atlantic Ocean lapped gently against the white sands of Key Biscayne. The sky was painting itself in brilliant shades of gold, rose, and amber as the sun began to peek over the horizon.
A small wooden beach cottage sat just fifty yards from the tide line. On the porch sat a blue painted bench.
I walked out onto the sand barefoot, wearing a comfortable linen shirt, holding two steaming mugs of coffee.
Sarah was standing near the water's edge, the gentle morning sea breeze playing with the ends of her dark hair. She looked healthy, strong, and completely radiant. A few yards away, little Maya was squealing with joy, chasing tiny hermit crabs across the wet sand with a plastic yellow bucket.
I walked up behind Sarah, setting the coffee mugs down on a nearby driftwood log, and wrapped my arms around her waist, resting my chin softly on her shoulder.
She leaned back against my chest, covering my hands with hers.
"Do you remember what I asked you on the beach three years ago?" Sarah asked softly, looking out at the rising sun.
"I remember every word," I whispered into her hair. "Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we had tried harder?"
"And what's your answer today, Charles?" she asked, turning her head to smile up at me, her eyes reflecting the golden light of the dawn.
May you like
I pulled her closer, feeling the steady, strong beat of her heart against my chest, listening to the joyful laughter of our daughter echoing across the water.
"We don't have to wonder anymore," I said, kissing her lips gently under the morning sun. "Because this time, we aren't letting go."
