One Last Time

One Last Time

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over the small coastal town of Seabrook. The salty breeze carried the faint scent of blooming jasmine, mingling with the briny tang of the ocean. It was a place where time seemed to slow, where the waves whispered secrets to the shore, and where memories lingered like the tide.

Evelyn Harper stood on the weathered wooden dock, her auburn hair tousled by the wind. She clutched a faded envelope in her hands, the edges frayed from years of being tucked away in drawers and boxes. The letter was addressed to her in a familiar, looping script—one she hadn’t seen in over a decade. It was from him. From Daniel.

Her heart clenched as she unfolded the paper, her eyes scanning the words she had read a hundred times before.

*"Dear Evelyn, if you’re reading this, it means I’m gone. But before I left, I wanted to ask you for one last thing. Come back to Seabrook. One last time. There’s something I need you to see. Something I need you to understand. Please, Evie. For me."*

The letter was dated just a week before Daniel’s passing. He had been her first love, her best friend, and the person who had taught her how to live. But life had pulled them in different directions, and the years had stretched the bond between them until it was little more than a fragile thread. And now, he was gone.

Evelyn had returned to Seabrook reluctantly, her heart heavy with grief and regret. She hadn’t been there for him in his final days, and the guilt gnawed at her like a relentless tide. But Daniel had asked for one last thing, and she couldn’t deny him that.

The dock creaked beneath her feet as she made her way to the end, where a small rowboat bobbed gently in the water. It was the same boat they had used as teenagers, sneaking out at night to explore the hidden coves and secret beaches that dotted the coastline. Daniel had always been the one to row, his strong arms cutting through the water with ease while Evelyn leaned back, gazing at the stars.

She stepped into the boat, the wood groaning under her weight, and picked up the oars. The sea was calm, the waves lapping softly against the hull as she rowed toward the distant outline of Larkspur Island. It was a tiny, uninhabited island just off the coast, a place they had claimed as their own. It was there, Daniel had written, that she would find what he wanted her to see.

The journey was short, but every stroke of the oars felt like an eternity. Her arms ached, her mind racing with questions. What could Daniel have left for her? What was so important that he needed her to come back, one last time?

As the boat scraped against the sandy shore of Larkspur Island, Evelyn climbed out, her feet sinking into the soft sand. The island was just as she remembered it—wild and untouched, with towering pines and a carpet of moss that seemed to glow in the fading light. She followed the narrow path that wound through the trees, her heart pounding in her chest.

At the center of the island stood a small clearing, and in the middle of it was a single oak tree. Its branches stretched wide, casting dappled shadows on the ground below. And there, at the base of the tree, was a wooden box.

Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat as she approached it. The box was simple, carved with intricate patterns of waves and stars. She knelt beside it, her fingers trembling as she lifted the lid.

Inside was a collection of items that made her heart ache. A seashell necklace she had made for Daniel when they were sixteen. A photograph of the two of them, laughing on the dock, their faces glowing with youth and joy. A stack of letters, tied with a ribbon, that they had written to each other during the summers they spent apart. And at the bottom of the box, a small, leather-bound journal.

She opened the journal, her eyes filling with tears as she recognized Daniel’s handwriting. The pages were filled with his thoughts, his dreams, his fears. He wrote about their childhood, about the adventures they had shared, and about the love he had always carried for her, even when they were apart.

*"Evie,"* he had written on the last page, *"I know I never said it enough, but I loved you. I loved you then, and I love you now. And I need you to know that it’s okay. It’s okay that we didn’t end up together. It’s okay that life took us in different directions. Because what we had was real, and it was beautiful. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything."*

Tears streamed down Evelyn’s face as she read his words, the weight of his love and forgiveness washing over her. She had spent so many years carrying the burden of what could have been, of the choices they had made and the paths they had taken. But Daniel had let it go. And now, he was asking her to do the same.

She sat there for what felt like hours, the journal clutched to her chest, the memories of their time together flooding her mind. The laughter, the tears, the stolen kisses under the stars. It had all been real. It had all mattered.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, Evelyn stood and placed the journal back in the box. She took the seashell necklace and fastened it around her neck, the cool weight of it a comforting reminder of the love they had shared.

She left the box beneath the oak tree, a silent tribute to the boy who had once been her everything. And as she rowed back to Seabrook, the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, their light reflecting on the calm surface of the water.

For the first time in years, Evelyn felt at peace. Daniel had given her the gift of closure, of understanding. He had asked her to come back one last time, not to dwell on the past, but to let it go. To remember the beauty of what they had, and to carry it with her as she moved forward.

As she stepped onto the dock, the waves whispered their secrets once more, and Evelyn smiled. She had come back, one last time, and she had found what she needed. Not just for Daniel, but for herself.

And as she walked away, the necklace resting against her heart, she knew that she would always carry a piece of him with her. One last time had been enough.