Mia pressed her forehead to the car window, watching the city’s grey dissolve into the open sky. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed, really laughed. Life had become a series of muted days: work, sleep, repeat. Even her friends’ voices had grown distant, muffled by exhaustion. She hoped the sea might remember who she used to be.

Her phone buzzed with work emails and missed calls as she pulled up the sandy lane, but she silenced it, tossing it into the glove compartment. This summer wasn’t just an escape; it was a chance to find herself again.

That first night, alone in the house, Mia lay awake listening to the sea. The darkness pressed in, thick with the ache of old memories. She wondered if she’d ever feel whole again or if she was destined to drift through life, untouched by anything real. The risk of hoping for more felt almost reckless.

The beach house greeted her with the scent of old cedar and salt. Its faded blue paint and creaking porch felt like a relic of someone else’s happiness. Mia wandered through rooms filled with dust and memories, her fingers tracing the edges of photographs, her grandmother’s smile, summers she barely recalled. The house seemed to breathe with her, holding its secrets close.

That first evening, as the sun bled into the horizon, a gentle knock sounded at the door. On the porch stood a young man, eyes storm-grey, smile hesitant.

“Welcome home,” he said, as if he’d been waiting for her.

His name was Eli. He appeared in the in-between hours, dusk and dawn, always when loneliness pressed in. Eli coaxed her outside, daring her to chase the tide at midnight, to dance barefoot in the sand, to let the cold water shock her awake. With him, Mia’s laughter returned, raw and bright, echoing across the shoreline. She felt the world sharpen into colour; even the air seemed sweeter when he was near.

One afternoon, Eli challenged her to a race along the surf. Mia shrieked as the icy water splashed her ankles, her laughter tumbling out, wild and free. She collapsed onto the sand, breathless, Eli beside her, both of them staring up at the endless sky.

“You’re different when you smile,” he said softly. “Like the sun breaking through clouds.”

Mia found herself painting again, bold strokes of blue and gold on driftwood she gathered with Eli. They built a bonfire one night, sharing stories beneath a sky scattered with stars. She confessed her fears: fears of being forgotten, of never truly living. Eli listened, his presence gentle and grounding, and his answers were always thoughtful, tinged with a sadness she couldn’t quite name.

One evening, as a storm gathered offshore, Eli found Mia curled on the porch swing, knees hugged to her chest.

“What scares you most?” he asked, voice gentle in the hush before rain.

She hesitated, then whispered, “That I’ll go through life never loving anyone enough to hurt when it’s over.”

Eli reached for her hand, his touch cool but steady. “Sometimes the best things are the ones we’re most afraid to lose.”

Thunder rumbled, and for a moment, Mia let herself believe in forever.

Sometimes, when she glanced in the mirror, she noticed Eli wasn’t there beside her reflection. Once, she reached for his hand and felt only a chill, as if she’d touched the edge of a wave. Still, she clung to the moments they shared, letting them fill the empty spaces inside her.

As the summer waned, Mia felt the weight of every choice. She could retreat, protect her heart, and pretend Eli was just a dream. Or she could leap, risking everything for a love she knew would end. She chose the leap. Each day, she let herself love more fiercely, savouring every glance, every laugh, and every shared silence.

One night, lying on the dunes, Mia whispered, “I forgot what it felt like to want more than just to get by.”

Eli’s gaze softened. “That's what summer is for. To remind us how bright life can be, even if it doesn’t last.”

August waned, and so did Eli. He grew quieter, sometimes distant, his eyes lingering on the old house as if searching for something lost. Mia found an old letter tucked in a book, a confession of love, unfinished, addressed to Eli. The truth settled in her chest: Eli was not of this world but of the house’s memory, a ghost bound by a love that had ended too soon.

On their last morning, dawn painted the sea in gold. Mia stood with Eli at the water’s edge, the letter trembling in her hand.

Tears blurred her vision, but she smiled. “You gave me back my heart,” she whispered. “You reminded me how to feel.”

Eli's voice was as gentle as the waves. “Thank you for loving me, even for a little while.”

As the sun rose, Eli shimmered, fading with the mist. Alone, Mia waded into the surf, the letter pressed to her chest, feeling the warmth he left behind. The ache of goodbye was sharp, but beneath it, burnt a new hope, a promise that love, however brief, could change everything.

That summer, Mia came alive. And though her love was fleeting, it was enough to carry her into all the seasons still to come.