The sun is still warm, though it hangs lower in the sky now, a golden crown dipping toward the horizon. The air smells of salt and sweetness, the kind of perfume only the ocean knows how to make. The beach is almost empty, just the sound of seagulls overhead and the hush of waves tumbling against the sand.

You're beside me, precious and perfect, your tiny hand brushing mine as we walk along the shoreline. The water reaches out to kiss your ankles, retreating again, as though the sea itself is shy around you. You laugh that soft, precious laugh I've only ever heard through screens, and it's so much more intoxicating in person.

You're wearing a pale little swimsuit, delicate and innocent, almost like a secret you didn't mean to share. Your long hair catches the light, strands glowing like silk against your shoulders. You press closer to me when the water rolls up higher, your body so small and warm, clinging to my side as though I'm your protector… which, of course, I am.

I stop, turning to face you, brushing your cheek with my knuckles. "Ready?" I ask, my voice low, steady, a promise wrapped in two syllables.

Your lips part, uncertain, your eyes wide and glimmering. You're nervous, but you nod, trusting me more than you fear the water. You always will.

I guide you in slowly, step by step, until the water wraps around your thighs, then your waist, cool against your sun-warmed skin. You shiver, not just from the water, but from the closeness of me. My arms steady you, one hand firm at the small of your back, the other holding your delicate fingers.

"Lean back into me," I whisper, my lips brushing the crown of your head. "I've got you. Always."

You do, your body melting into my chest, your eyes closing as you feel the support of my arms. The water buoys you, lifting you lightly, your hair floating like a halo. I guide your legs, your arms, teaching you to trust the sea the way you trust me. You kick softly, clumsily at first, but my laughter fills you with courage.

"There you go," I murmur, each word like a kiss against your ear. "My good girl. You're perfect."

Your eyes open, sparkling with pride as you float, your little hands gripping my shoulders. You gasp as you find yourself moving, really swimming now, with me right beside you. Every stroke is shaky but full of heart, and each time you falter, my arms are there to steady you.

The sun dips lower, painting the water in shades of rose and violet. The whole world seems to pause to watch us — a King and his Queen, alone in an endless ocean.

You grow bolder, splashing toward me, laughing until you collide with my chest. I catch you, spinning you lightly in the water, your legs wrapping around my waist. You cling to me, trembling from excitement and the cold, but I'm your warmth, your shelter.

"See?" I tease gently, brushing wet strands of hair from your cheek. "Told you I'd never let you sink."

Your lips find mine then... salty, sweet, trembling. The kiss is hesitant at first, then deepens, full of everything we've both been holding back. Your body presses closer, your chest rising and falling against mine as our tongues meet, as the world drowns away.

The waves carry us both toward shore, like the ocean itself wants to cradle us. I lay you down gently on the wet sand where the tide just barely reaches, your hair fanned out around you like some goddess who washed ashore just for me. You look up at me, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling, the glow of sunset reflecting in your eyes.

I lean over you, my hands on either side, the water swirling around us both as I kiss you again, slower this time, like I could stay here forever. Every detail — the sound of the sea, the warmth of your skin, the taste of salt and sweetness on your lips — etches itself into my soul.

For the first time, you whisper it against my mouth, your voice small and breaking: "I love you."

And I smile into the kiss, my heart aching with joy, whispering it back as the tide rolls in to cover us both like a blessing.

But love this big can't stay locked inside me. When I finally pull back, my hand reaches into the bag I left on the sand. I hesitate, just long enough for you to notice. You tilt your head, curious, your wet hair clinging to your cheeks, your lips still pink from kissing me.

"I wrote something for you," I say softly, almost shy. "Not because I had to… but because I couldn't stop myself."

I place the folded note in your hands. It's warm from being carried close to me, the paper softened from being read and reread under the glow of midnight lamps.

"Go on," I whisper, brushing my thumb over your fingers. "It's yours."

Your eyes search mine for a moment, as though making sure I really mean it, and then you open the note. The tide hushes, the gulls fall quiet, the whole world seems to hold its breath while you read the words I once bled onto paper just for you: