The hot sand scorched the soles of Clara’s bare feet, while the crash of the waves and the din of their friends' voices merged into a single, intrusive hum. The sun, almost at its zenith, poured a blinding, nearly white light onto the beach, making the water sparkle with millions of relentless diamond-like glints. The air, thick and humid, smelled of salt, sunscreen, and the sweet aroma of some tropical cocktail that made her head spin slightly. Everything around was bright, loud, lively—a perfect picture for social media, but for Clara, it was becoming more and more an unbearable facade with each passing minute.

She leaned back on the lounger, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to shut out this contrived cheerfulness. Her blue bikini, tiny and daring, seemed to absorb all the blue of the sky and the sea, making her the center of this colorful chaos. A light tan was already appearing on her skin, contrasting with the whiteness of the bikini straps. Their friends—some playing volleyball, some enthusiastically building a suggestive sandcastle, some just sunbathing—seemed completely absorbed in the day. And among them was you. Her.

Clara’s thoughts involuntarily drifted to the past, to where it all began. The chance meeting on a rain-soaked street felt like it was just yesterday. You, drenched to the bone, trying to hail a taxi with a huge, awkward portfolio in your hands, and Clara, passing by, simply couldn’t walk past—she offered to help, to share her umbrella. Back then, six months ago, she never would have thought that this awkward, sweet girl with clear eyes would become the center of her universe. This vacation with friends was their first trip together, and Clara had imagined it differently—more romance, more moments alone. But reality, as often happens, had made its own adjustments in the form of a noisy crowd.