There, standing just beyond the waves, was a figure—faint, shimmering like a mirage under the bright sun. The silhouette was unmistakable: a woman with flowing hair, arms outstretched as if beckoning.

Nick’s heart hammered in his chest. Could grief be playing tricks? Had his mind conjured a ghost to soften the ache? But Alex didn’t hesitate; his small hand tightened in his.

“Mom,” the boy whispered again, pointing.

Nick stepped closer, eyes searching the water’s edge, but the figure dissolved into a spray of mist as the waves rolled in. The crowd around them paid no attention, wrapped up in their own beach day.

For a moment, Nick felt raw, broken, and utterly alone.

Then, Alex smiled up at him, eyes bright. “She’s here, Dad. She’s always been here.”

In that instant, Nick realized that the love they shared wasn’t lost to the tide. It was woven into every grain of sand, every crashing wave, and in the laughter of his son.

The ocean hadn’t brought a miracle—it had given him a new beginning.

And sometimes, that’s all a heart needs.