The Last Sunrise

The horizon was an orange line, faint and uncertain, barely separating the sky from the sea. Lina stood at the edge of the crumbling dock, her feet heavy on the weathered wood, watching as the ocean devoured the last of the shore. It seemed impossible that the land she had known all her life—her home, her memories—was fading into the tide. Her breath hitched, not from the wind that whipped through her hair, but from the crushing weight in her chest, the feeling that with every wave, she was losing pieces of herself.

Behind her, the old house stood like a relic of another time. The white paint had long since peeled away, and the once-sturdy beams had begun to rot, consumed by the salt air and neglect. The house had been in Lina’s family for generations, passed down from her grandmother to her mother, and finally to her. It wasn’t just a home; it was a living memory, a witness to weddings, births, and funerals. The walls echoed with the laughter of children long grown, with stories told around the fire, and with the silence that followed loss.

She closed her eyes, trying to hold onto the sound of the wind rustling through the palm trees, the scent of salt and earth, but the ocean’s roar drowned it all out. The water was closer now, lapping at the edges of the path that once led to her mother’s garden. The garden was gone, swept away with the last storm, leaving only a patch of barren, waterlogged land.

"Lina, we need to go," her brother called from the door. His voice was rough, but she could hear the tremor in it, the same sorrow he tried to bury under the practicalities of packing and leaving. Javi was always the strong one, the one who made decisions when no one else could. But even he was breaking now, as the sea tore away their past.

Lina didn’t respond. She couldn’t. The thought of leaving made her stomach twist. To her, walking away was abandoning not just a house, but everything her family had ever been. Her ancestors had built this home with their hands, fished these waters, harvested the land. They had survived hurricanes, droughts, wars—but not this. Not the slow, relentless rise of the ocean.

She heard Javi’s footsteps behind her, hesitant but growing firmer as he came to stand by her side. "We can't wait any longer, Lina. The road will be underwater by nightfall. You know that."

Lina bit her lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood. "What if we just… stay? Maybe this storm won’t be as bad. Maybe—"

"Maybe what?" Javi cut her off, his voice a mixture of anger and desperation. "The water isn’t going to stop. It hasn’t stopped for years. We can’t keep pretending we have time. It’s gone, Lina. This place… it’s already gone."

She turned to him then, tears blurring her vision. "I can’t leave it behind. How can you just walk away?"

Javi’s face softened, and he reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. "I don’t want to walk away, either. But we have no choice. We’ve fought as long as we could, tried to save it… but now, we have to save ourselves."

His words hung in the air, heavy and true. Lina knew he was right, but it didn’t make it easier. She pulled her hand away, wiping her tears angrily. "I hate this. I hate that we’re being forced out of the only place that’s ever felt like home."

"I hate it too," Javi whispered. "But we’ll find a new home. Together."

Together. The word felt empty, a promise that couldn’t replace what was being taken from them. What place could ever hold the weight of this one? What other patch of earth could carry the roots of her family, the history woven into every crack and creak of the house behind them?

They stood in silence for a moment, the waves creeping ever closer, the dock swaying under their feet. Lina could feel the ocean tugging at her, pulling her toward a future she wasn’t ready for. But there was no stopping it. No bargaining with it. The sea was indifferent to their grief, to their memories.

"I’m going to miss it," she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. "Every sunrise. Every storm. The way the air smells after the rain. I’ll miss it all."

Javi nodded, his jaw clenched. "Me too. But we’ll carry it with us. Every bit of it."

She didn’t know how that was possible, how you could carry the weight of an entire life in your heart, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she turned away from the sea, looking back at the house one last time. The windows were dark, the shutters hanging crookedly, and the porch sagged as though it, too, was too tired to hold on. It looked like an old man, bent and broken, waiting for the inevitable.

Lina stepped toward it, her feet sinking into the soft, wet ground. She touched the doorframe, feeling the rough wood beneath her fingers. She remembered her mother standing in this very spot, laughing as she called them in for dinner. She remembered her father, sitting on the porch with his pipe, staring out at the sea with that faraway look in his eyes. And she remembered herself, as a little girl, running barefoot through the yard, her heart light and free.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I’m so sorry."

Javi came up behind her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. "It’s not your fault, Lina. None of this is."

She nodded, though she didn’t quite believe him. It felt like a failure, like she hadn’t fought hard enough, like she hadn’t done enough to stop the sea from swallowing them whole.

But the water was indifferent. The sea kept rising.

With a final, trembling breath, Lina turned her back on the house. Javi picked up their last bag, and together, they walked away, the sound of the waves crashing behind them like a heartbeat fading into the distance.

As they reached the top of the hill, Lina looked back one last time. The sun had risen fully now, casting a golden glow over the waterlogged land. The ocean had crept closer, almost reaching the front steps. In a few hours, it would be gone—house and all.

And so would they.