Sleep wouldnât come.
Understandably soâafter all that had happened that day.
I got up, left the hut, and headed down to the beach, hoping to calm my mind.
The dirt path was cool beneath my feet. When I reached the shore, the waves gently kissed the sand.
Across the sea, lights from the village on the neighboring island twinkled softly.
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âI wonder⦠Did they know what happened here today?â I thought.
Thatâs when I noticed a figure standing still near the rocks at the edge of the beach.
I approached slowly.
It was SandraâSergio and Juanâs mother.
She turned her gaze to me and said:
âYou know⦠what happened today wasnât just coincidence.â
âWhat do you mean?â I asked, confused by her expression.
She looked at me, her eyes full of something ancientâgrief, yes, but something else too.
Longing.
âYears ago, the Atlantic Ocean was my home⦠and I was not human.
I was the daughter of the King of the Merfolk.
One day, the Great White Sharks attacked our realmâ¦
and wiped out much of my people.â
I opened my mouth to interrupt herâto say this was madness, that she needed to rest, that the trauma was playing tricks on herâ¦
But something in her eyes stopped me.
A strange calmness, laced with sorrow, rooted in a time long forgotten.
So I stayed quiet.
And I listened.
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