The last day felt like the island knew it was losing them.
Ella woke up to the sound of rain—soft at first, then harder, drumming on the roof like it was trying to keep them there. She stayed in bed longer than she should have, staring at the ceiling, replaying last night in slow motion: the way Alex’s fingers had moved inside her, the way he’d held her up when her legs gave out, the way he’d looked at her after, like he was the one who’d shattered.
She pressed her thighs together at the memory. Felt the dull ache still lingering. She hated how much she wanted more. Hated how much she hated him for walking away right after.
She got up eventually. Showered and dressed in a loose linen shirt and shorts. Walked out to the terrace.
Alex was already there.
He stood at the railing, arms bra
