The Australian summer sun beat down, warming the golden sand beneath me. Waves rolled onto the shore in beautiful curls, a constant, soothing rhythm. I knew, deep down, that summer didn't last forever. That meant, I couldn't keep pretending this wasn't my life anymore. I had to face the reality of my new home.

I curled into a ball on my mat, a knot of homesickness tightening in my chest. I missed Galway, the rough charm of its ocean, the rush of the river meeting the sea, even making fun of our little harbour and its ancient castles. My friends back home thought I was lucky, and maybe for the first week, I’d felt it. But as time wore on, the novelty faded, replaced by a dull ache for everything familiar.

Then I heard him. Philip, never graceful, flopped down on the sand beside me, a cheeky smile on his face, his brown curls blowing in the wind. As always, dark shades hid his ocean blue eyes. “Hey,” he said, his lips curled in amusement, an accent I could never quite place. I sighed, knowing the temporary comfort he offered would soon be gone, just like the fleeting summer.