Until the Stars fade

The sea always sounded like a secret to victory Eze.

Each wave that crashed against the rocky shore whispered something only the quiet could hear. It was just past 9 p.m., and the town of Windmere Bay had settled into its sleepy rhythm - streetlights humming, porch lights flickering, and the night air soaked in the scent of salt and wild jasmine.

Victory sat cross-legged on the weathered dock behind her grandmother's cottage, sketchpad resting on her knees. Her pencil danced across the page, tracing the outline of a girl staring up at the sky. It was a habit - drawing strangers she hadn't met, writing stories she hadn't lived.

She didn't hear the footsteps at first. Just a shift in the silence.

"You're sitting on the brightest observation point in the area," a calm voice said behind her.

Startled, victory turned.

A man stood a few feet away, tall and quiet like the night itself. He had tousled dark hair, glasses slipping down his nose, and a telescope case slung over one shoulder.

"I'm sorry, am I- in your way?" victory asked, rising quickly.

He shook his head. "Not at all. I just didn't expect anyone else to be out here."

"I could say the same."

He smiled - barely. "frank."

"victory."

They stood in the kind of silence that wasn't awkward, just unfamiliar. Then victory looked up at the sky.

"The stars are clear tonight."

Victory followed his gaze. "I always look at them. But I never really know what I'm looking at."

He set the telescope down gently. "Then you're looking the right way."

And just like that, something shifted. Not loud. Not obvious. But real.

Two people, two lives, and one sky wide enough to hold them both.