The next day, Yara found herself at the cliffs.

  The wind tore at her coat, making the hem flap wildly, but she pressed on.

  The lighthouse stood like a monument to guilt, to memories that wouldn’t fade.

  She hadn’t been here in years, not since Adam had disappeared that fateful week.

  It felt as though time had slowed here, as though the lighthouse had stood frozen in place, waiting for her return.

  In the distance, the sea foamed violently against the jagged rocks below.

  Yara stepped closer, the crashing waves a haunting soundtrack to her thoughts.

  Inside the lighthouse, the old stairwell creaked beneath her feet as she climbed.

  Her hands touched the walls, searching for something familiar.

  Carvings on the wall caught her eye — a message, faded by time but still clear:

  “I waited.”

  Her breath caught, a sob rising in her throat as her hands trembled over the words.

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  Had Adam written this? Had he been here, just as she had, waiting?

  Or was her mind simply playing tricks on her, weaving a story that she so desperately needed to believe?

  Tears blurred her vision as she whispered, “I want to believe it’s real.”

  The air around her seemed to pulse with something ancient, something alive.

  She took a deep breath, inhaling the salt of the sea and the faint scent of lilacs.

  It was as if the lighthouse was alive, carrying memories, not just of Adam, but of them — of their love, their pain, their brokenness.

  "Maybe we were always tied to this ruin," she thought.

  "But now, maybe ruins could become places to rebuild."

  She smiled faintly, letting go of the past, even if just for a moment.

  In that brief, fragile space, she could almost hear Adam’s voice again.

  And for once, it didn’t feel like a haunting.