The nights in the town were different from its days. When the sun set, the streets slowed, the sounds softened, and everything seemed to deepen. As I walked down to the shore that evening, I felt it again—but this time, there was something more, a call within the wind that I couldn't explain. The sound of the waves was more rhythmic than usual, as if they weren't crashing against the shore but trying to tell something. I walked for a while, the sand cool beneath my feet, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed flickering lights further down the beach. At first, I didn't pay much attention, assuming it was a small gathering, but as I got closer, I realized it was nothing ordinary. Lanterns had been arranged in a circle on the sand, their golden light swaying gently with the wind and casting shadows that stretched and shrank in strange, shifting forms. People stood around the circle in silence; no one spoke, no one laughed, and every face carried the same expression—anticipation. My steps slowed as a faint unease stirred within me, and although I considered turning back, something kept me moving forward. As I approached the circle, an old woman appeared beside me without warning, and before I could understand where she had come from, she placed a small, smooth stone into my hand.
"You're late."
I didn't understand what she meant and wanted to ask, but no words came out; she looked directly into my eyes, her gaze lingering longer than it should have.
"We are always late to ourselves."
She walked away as if nothing had happened, leaving me standing there with the stone clenched in my palm while I noticed that everyone else held one too, yet no one spoke; the wind had softened, and the sea now seemed to rise from somewhere deeper. The woman stepped into the center of the circle, and though her voice was not loud, it carried clearly to everyone.
"Tonight, the sea will take back what does not belong to you."
"And it will show you what you've hidden."
My heart began to beat faster as the silence thickened around us, and when she spoke again, her voice seemed to settle into something final.
"Do not make a wish. Ask for the truth."
I closed my eyes, and at first there was only the sound of the waves, then the wind, and then a sudden, weightless void, followed by a voice that I recognized before I could even fully process it.
"Did you really let me go?"
My breath faltered as I recognized him—Jack—and it didn't feel like a memory; it was closer, more real, as if he were truly there, and my mind struggled to understand how that could be possible, whether he was actually standing in front of me or if I was losing myself in something I couldn't control, my thoughts tangling into emotions I couldn't name, leaving me unsure of what to do when his voice came again.
"Or did you just run away?"
I opened my eyes and saw him standing by the shore, the moonlight illuminating only part of his face as he remained still, watching me, and I found myself unable to move, neither stepping toward him nor away from him, caught in a moment that felt both real and impossible at once.
"Did you ever love me?"
The question struck something deep inside me, and for a second, I couldn't breathe.
"I did… but I loved myself less."
A silence followed, heavier than before, and then his face began to lose its clarity, fading slowly as if it were being erased piece by piece, yet before disappearing completely, he spoke one last time.
"Then why am I still here?"
I couldn't answer, because I already knew the truth—I hadn't let him go, I had only walked away—and in that moment, the stone in my hand grew unbearably hot, as if it were seeping into my skin, forcing me to open my hand and throw it into the sea. The instant it touched the water, everything fell silent; the waves, the wind, every sound vanished, as though the world had paused its breath, and in that stillness, something inside me shifted, a hollow forming within me that wasn't frightening but light, almost cleansing, as if a weight I had carried for far too long had finally been lifted. When I opened my eyes, the circle was gone, the lanterns extinguished, the people disappeared, and the shore had returned to what it had always been, yet I knew I was not the same. Slowly, I walked toward the sea and stepped into the water, the cold wrapping around me as the waves brushed against my feet, but I didn't pull back; instead, I closed my eyes again and let the moment settle within me, and that was when I understood—I didn't miss Jack, I missed who I had been when I was with him, and that version of me no longer belonged to me. I lifted my head and looked at the moon, still hanging quietly in the sky, unchanged yet somehow different in my eyes, and as I took a deep breath, the quiet unease that had once filled me was gone, replaced by something steadier, something real—acceptance. When I returned home, I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself, noticing that while my face was the same, something in my eyes had shifted, becoming clearer, more certain, and later, as I sat alone thinking about what had happened on the shore, I couldn't tell whether it had been real or something created by my own mind, my thoughts tangled with questions about Jack, about that night, about everything that now felt both distant and deeply present at the same time, and before going to bed, I opened my notebook and wrote:
"Some nights take someone out of you… and leave you with who you truly are."