The sun was at its golden zenith, casting down warm light that glimmered like scattered jewels on the soft ripples of the sea. The sky stretched endlessly above, a serene canvas of vibrant blue, so clear it looked like the gods had freshly painted it with loving brushstrokes. Only a few delicate, feather-like clouds drifted lazily along the horizon - content, unhurried, free. High above, a flock of seagulls circled in graceful arcs, their wings cutting through the sunlight with silent elegance. Their distant cries mingled with the rhythmic hush of the waves, creating a peaceful symphony of nature's midday hush.

Miho sat beneath the protective shade of a striped beach umbrella, its fabric gently fluttering in the light breeze. The umbrella's colors - cool lavender and cream - cast a soft, dreamy hue over her porcelain skin. A few strands of her silver white hair were caught in the wind, fluttering across her cheeks and catching bits of sunlight, like fine silk threads illuminated in midair. She didn't brush them away. She just let them dance.

Her back leaned slightly against a rolled beach towel. Barefoot, legs drawn in loosely, one hand rested on the blanket beside her while the other slowly twirled a straw in her half-finished iced latte. The condensation from the cup had pooled on the blanket, a small circle of coolness that contrasted with the sun-warmed fabric.

And Miho looked up.

Not in passing. Not distractedly. But long, slow, and deeply. Her silvery eyes locked onto the sky as if searching for something beyond it - beyond the gulls, beyond the sun, even beyond the earth. She wasn't squinting, though the light was bright. The umbrella filtered the glare enough that her eyes could remain open, still, and soft.

Her gaze held something profound. Not urgency. Not sadness. Something weightier than joy and quieter than bliss. Something like thankfulness.

She watched as one bird in particular soared higher than the rest, its wings motionless in the warm currents of air, completely at peace with being carried. And a faint smile curled her lips. Not a grin, not performative - just a small, barely noticeable expression of pure, internal contentment. It was the kind of smile people have when no one is watching except, perhaps, the sky.

Then, softly, barely above the hush of the waves, Miho spoke to herself.

"...I'm really... happy," she whispered

She paused and exhaled slowly, her breath catching slightly as it passed through a chest that felt at that moment too full for words. The kind of fullness that only love can bring. Not infatuation. Not adrenaline. Love. Warm, still, strong, and persistent like the sun above.

"I didn't think I would ever feel this way. This calm. This... safe."

She tilted her head slightly, a soft breeze brushing across her face, and in her mind she saw - the warmth of your hand in hers

"I wonder if he knows" she murmured.

"How much he's changed me."

Her fingers idly traced small invisible circles on the blanket beside her. She looked down now, at the condensation ring left by her cup, then at her own knees, slightly sun-kissed. Her mind wandered through memories - quiet mornings with you sipping coffee, small arguments, lazy nights in bed talking about nothing and everything.

Miho blinked once, slowly, as if to seal those thoughts like flowers in a diary. Then her eyes drifted upward again.

"To feel this way," she continued, her voice now more like a breath than a sentence

"is rare, isn't it?"

She tilted her head to the side, as if asking the clouds to confirm.

And they seemed to answer in silence, in stillness, in the golden dust of sunbeams that filtered through the umbrella's edges. She smiled again - this time a little wider - and hugged her knees loosely.

"Maybe this is what it means... to find home in a person."

She turned her head slightly toward your direction. You were just a dark shape in the sun, but she saw you more clearly than anything else.

"I love him" she said.

No hesitation. No fear. No doubt.

It was a declaration meant not for the world, but for the air - the warm, salty air that had carried your laughter to her ears earlier, that had wrapped around both your bodies the night before as you lay on the sand looking at stars, your hands entwined.

Miho leaned back on her elbows now, the world shifting to a slower rhythm. She let her head tilt back, hair cascading down like moonlight over the mat, and she let the sun warm her stomach where her top lifted slightly from the movement.

She didn't care about the shape of her body or the way the wind was ruining her hair or whether or not the seagulls might steal her chips. She just cared about this moment.

The warm sun. The distant waves. Your presence. Her love.

And then she giggled softly, covering her mouth with one hand, a blush spreading lightly across her cheeks. Her voice - though no one was near - was sheepish and honest.

"I sound like a movie character" she said, eyes squinting from smiling too hard now.

"But I don't care."

A moment passed. A gull called out.

Then she added with even more certainty

"This is real."

She laid herself fully down now, arms stretched out, fingers brushing the fabric of the picnic blanket, her chest rising and falling calmly with each breath. Her skin warmed by the filtered sun, her hair a halo on the mat, she looked like a painting - one of those peaceful 19th-century beach scenes where the subject is more feeling than form.

She closed her eyes.

And whispered one last time

"Thank you... for loving me like this."

Then she smiled again.