Chapter Text
Michelle had been a lifeguard for years, but she had no idea that the man she would meet that day was someone she had seen many times before without even realizing it.
The sea clashed against the shore as laughter filled the air. The sound of a ball being hit echoed across the beach while Michelle and her friends played volleyball, their feet kicking up soft sand. She jumped, hit the ball hard, and watched it land perfectly on the other side. Victory.
Volleyball was her escape, the one thing that helped her forget about the stress of work. Between long shifts, paperwork, and the emotional weight of her job, she needed this. Hitting that ball across the net was her release. When the game ended with her team’s win, she bent over, catching her breath and smiling through the sweat.
"I'm going to grab some water! I’ll be back faster than the waves!" she called, laughing as she jogged toward the café.
Her cheerful mood faded when she noticed something lying near the water’s edge. At first, she thought it was driftwood, but as she got closer, she realized it was a man. The tide was washing over his feet, his white shirt soaked and half-unbuttoned. Her heart jumped as she ran to him and knelt beside him. She leaned in, checking his breathing. He was alive, but only just.
Michelle’s instincts took over. She had seen drownings before, but rarely like this. The man looked completely out of it, as if the sea itself had spat him out. Even though she wasn’t on duty, walking away was not an option. Ignoring someone in need went against everything she believed in.
She grabbed her phone and quickly typed a message to her friends.
> Hey guys, I need to head home. Totally forgot to grab something for dinner. See you next week!
She sighed. Lying wasn’t something she liked, but saving this man’s life mattered more than a bit of honesty. Tucking her phone away, she crouched and wrapped her arms around him.
He was heavy, far heavier than she expected. His body was strong beneath the soaked fabric, which made lifting him even harder. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, adjusting her grip. The water added resistance, but she refused to give up. With one final push, she managed to lift him and carry him toward the café.
Inside, she gently set him down on a small leather booth. She went to the counter and ordered two bottles of water, a bag of crisps, and a slice of cake in case his blood sugar was low. She added a lemonade for herself as well.
Her arms trembled from the effort, and she took a deep breath before drinking some water. All she could do now was wait.
A quiet groan made her head snap toward him. His eyes, a striking shade of violet, flickered open. Relief flooded her chest as she realized he was alive.
Rafayel blinked, his vision blurry as he tried to focus. The first thing he saw was her face framed by soft brown hair and a pair of honey-brown eyes full of concern. He tried to piece together what had happened. The last thing he remembered was painting near the shore, a bottle of wine beside him, and then nothing.
Michelle noticed his eyes open and hurried to his side. Their gazes met, and for a brief, unexplainable moment, something stirred in her chest. There was a sense of recognition, a warmth she couldn’t explain.
Rafayel felt it too. His breath caught for a second as an unfamiliar familiarity washed over him. Who was she? Why did it feel as though he had known her before, as if the sea had reunited him with a forgotten part of himself?
“This is quite an interesting way to wake up,” he said. His voice was low and rough from the salt water, though a hint of teasing slipped through.
Michelle crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Finally awake, are we? What made you think napping in the surf was a good idea?”
Saving people from the water wasn’t unusual for her, but finding a man washed up like driftwood definitely was.
Rafayel chuckled weakly and pushed himself upright. “You caught me,” he admitted with a faint smile. “I might have gotten a little too enthusiastic celebrating my latest painting. One drink too many, and the ocean decided to claim me.”
He reached for the crisps she had placed on the table, brushing his hand against hers. The touch was light but intentional, as if he were testing whether the strange pull he felt toward her was real.
Michelle tilted her head slightly, studying him. “Ah yes, an artist. Alcohol, beautiful scenery, and poor decisions. What a perfect mix.” Her tone carried a note of sarcasm, but her expression softened as she spoke. There was something easy about talking to him that surprised her. She didn’t usually open up to strangers, especially not ones she had just rescued.
Rafayel grinned. “Maybe I’m just lucky you found me. Or do you make a habit of rescuing reckless artists?”
She rolled her eyes and took another sip of lemonade. “Only on days ending with Y.”
They both laughed. The tension between them began to fade, replaced by a quiet comfort neither expected. Beneath the light humor, though, there was something deeper.
As Rafayel watched her, he couldn’t shake the feeling that fate had played a hand in this meeting. It felt too familiar, too meaningful to be random.
Michelle, meanwhile, studied him quietly. His violet eyes, the gentle teasing in his tone, the way his voice felt oddly familiar—it all stirred something she couldn’t name. Maybe it was nothing, just exhaustion and adrenaline mixing together. But part of her couldn’t help wondering if there was more to it.
She looked at him again, this stranger she had pulled from the sea, and a
single thought echoed in her mind.
Who was this man?