The lighthouse at the edge of the cliffs had stood for over a hundred years, its light cutting through the darkest nights, guiding lost sailors home. But to Isla, it wasn’t just a lighthouse—it was a promise.
Every evening, at sunset, she came to sit on the rocks beneath the tower, staring at the horizon. The waves crashed against the cliffs, the salty breeze tangled in her hair, but she hardly noticed. Her fingers traced the edges of an old, folded letter—the last one he had sent.
Liam.
The boy who had once held her hand beneath these very stars. The boy who had promised to return.
She had waited. For years, she had waited. And yet, no word had come.
Until tonight.
The lighthouse door creaked open, and footsteps echoed against the wooden steps. Isla’s breath hitched, her heart pounding as she turned.
And there he was.
Liam.
He stood in the doorway, the golden glow of the lantern behind him casting long shadows on the stone path. His hair was tousled by the wind, his eyes the same stormy blue she had memorized long ago.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, barely above a whisper, he said, “I made it back.”
Isla swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the letter. “You never wrote.”
Liam exhaled, stepping closer. “I did.” He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a bundle of letters, their edges worn and weathered. “Every week. But they never reached you.”
She stared at them, her throat tightening.
“The sea kept them,” he said softly. “But it couldn’t keep me away.”
A lump formed in her throat as she looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw the truth in his eyes. The years had changed them, but the way he looked at her—that hadn’t changed at all.
He took another step closer, his voice barely audible over the waves. “Isla, tell me I haven’t lost you.”
Her chest ached with everything she had wanted to say for so long.
Instead of speaking, she reached into her own pocket and pulled out a single letter—the one she had never sent.
His name was written on it.
Liam’s breath caught as he took it from her hands, his fingers brushing hers. He unfolded the paper carefully, eyes scanning the words she had written so long ago.
“I’ll wait for you.”
When he looked back up, there was something raw in his expression—something that made Isla feel like the ground beneath her had shifted.
Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and cupped her cheek. “I’m home.”
The lighthouse beam turned slowly, casting its golden light over them as she whispered, “So am I.”
And beneath the endless sky, where the waves met the shore, Isla realized—some promises were never meant to be broken.
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