Sea Glass

She had smashed it against the jagged rock that day. The transparent fragments had scattered and surrendered to the elements. They had both watched as the red wine leaked into the fury of sea spray, crimson mingling momentarily, before being consumed by the vast expanse of grey.

It was supposed to have been different.

The picnic basket lay untouched beside them, filled with cheeses, fruits, and chocolates — all of her favourites. He knew that.

Seagulls circled above, their cries a distant echo. Nearby, children built sandcastles, their laughter light and carefree. This evening was to mark a new beginning, reminiscent of their first date by the ocean years ago. But now, it held the promise of the proposal. She had whispered about it with friends in hushed tones. During brief telephone exchanges with her mother on Saturdays. But mostly in sacred, private moments, she had allowed herself to imagine the shape and size of the engagement ring. The way the diamond was set against her skin. The way it would make her feel knowing that she was his.

She had always adored the sea. The gentle lull of the waves, the salty breeze, the rhythmic ebb and flow — they all brought her comfort. Gazing into the vastness, she felt the liberation of insignificance. Detached from thought, she could just exist.

He had known that too.

They had walked hand in hand, exactly as she had envisioned: the cool sand beneath their feet, the wind gently rustling her hair. The sun beginning to set, casting a luminous glow across the dark ocean, marking a path to the horizon. Their future. Shared.

They had settled on their spot, a hideaway where water met ancient rocks, casting a savage spray with every pulsing collision. She had told him once that this place made her feel alive, safe amid nature's power.

“I have to tell you something,” he murmured, almost too softly. But she heard it, not the words, but the tone.

"Veronika...She…I didn't mean for it to... It just happened... Love..." He looked down at the sand, his usually steady hands now trembling. Guilt weighed in his eyes. Iris to iris. Truth for truth. Or a lie in-told.

She understood.

With a swift motion, she had sprung forward. The wine glass had shattered against the cruel edges of the black rocks. She had moved with such force, and unprepared, he could only bear witness. As the remnants merged with the ocean, he was silent. He knew her. And he knew that this would be the final act.

He had known it when he had told her. Relief washed over him, cleansing the weight of his lies. The reality might have destroyed her. He had wanted to leave the second he had met Veronika, but time and affection had stopped him. He could not do it. Still, the heart wants what it wants.

What had began as brief glances shifted over time into fleeting liaisons — innocent coffees after work, which then became two. And in the last act of betrayal, making love. If it had been just sex, he might not have told her. He had kept those kind of secrets before. This was not the same.

He was silent. Giving her at least the dignity of indignation. The truth was that he was leaving her. "This way is better," he thought, "more humane."

Together, they had watched silently as the pieces floated momentarily, as if reconciling with themselves; contemplating the newly fractured fragments before sinking slowly and nestling amongst the pebbles on the ocean floor.

Sea glass.

The waves would smooth their sharp edges. What was once transparent would become opaque, embodying loss.

This time, she did not turn back.

He looked out into the ocean, not turning to see her footprints in the sand. Relief and the faint orange glow of tomorrow brought him closer to the water she had loved.

One day, she would think of the sea glass and wonder who she might have become had she forgiven him.