The night air was thick with salt and the lingering hum of distant music. The clubs had exploded to life, and Ibiza, always a pulsating current of energy, was now beating with its usual fierce intensity. Yet, away from the glittering chaos, on a secluded stretch of beach, lay a quiet that felt almost sacred. The Mediterranean stretched out like black glass beneath a moon that hung heavy in the sky, casting everything in a pale, silvery glow.

Christopher desperately needed the escape. After hours of mixing tracks and weaving invisible connections, the weight of his duties had pressed down harder than usual. The night had been full of successful pairings, lovers pulled together through his music, but it had brought him none of the satisfaction it once did. Instead, it only served as a stark, aching reminder of what he could not have.

He walked barefoot along the shoreline, the cool water brushing against his feet, his thoughts lost in the hypnotic rhythm of the waves. His mind had been drifting more and more lately, always circling back to the same unsettling place—to the face of a woman he did not know but could not seem to forget. He had seen her only briefly, a fleeting glimpse, but something about her lingered. It was irrational, dangerous even, to let himself think about her like this.

Christopher stopped, staring out over the endless, shimmering sea. He was a god, after all. His role had always been clear, etched into his very being. He had to foster love in others, and keep his own heart untouchable, immune to the very emotions he so skilfully created in humans but here, under the hushed quiet of the moon, with only the vast ocean and his churning thoughts for company, he felt the formidable walls around his heart tremble just slightly. For a breathless moment, he allowed himself to wonder—what if?

The soft crunch of footsteps in the sand pulled him sharply from his reverie. He turned, instinctively guarded, and then he saw her.

She was just a few feet away, her silhouette illuminated by the moonlight, her gaze cast out toward the sprawling sea. There was something about her, a profound, quiet sadness that tugged at him, even from this distance. She had not seen him yet, lost in her own private world as she walked slowly along the beach, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if for warmth, or perhaps to physically hold herself together, to stop from falling apart completely. Her shoulders were hunched, a visible burden that resonated with an ache inside him. He knew, with an instinct far deeper than human understanding, that she was nursing a wound, raw and fresh.

He knew he should leave. This island was small, a mere speck in the vast Mediterranean, and it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again in the bustling light of day but this… this was too close. Too real. However, he felt rooted to the spot and unable to move.

Isabel stopped a few paces away, finally noticing him. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, but there was no flicker of fear in her gaze, only curiosity and something softer. Perhaps a glimmer of relief at not being the only soul out here under the vast, lonely sky.

“Hi,” she said, her voice barely audible over the whisper of the waves, a fragile sound that seemed to carry the weight of everything she was trying to escape.

Christopher offered a small smile, the kind that hid a thousand unsaid words and countless centuries of longing. “Hi,” he replied, his voice calm, steady, though inside, something profound was irrevocably shifting. He should not be here. He should not want to be here. Yet, he could not help it. The pull was too strong.

They stood in silence for a long moment, the world around them shrinking into just this stretch of moonlit beach, just the two of them. Isabel's gaze was fixed on the distant horizon, and Christopher watched her, sensing the heavy burden she carried. She was not just another tourist here to forget reality for a while. She was hurting, her heart still raw, still bleeding from whatever had broken it. He felt the echo of her pain, a faint, sympathetic thrum against his own heart that was strangely comforting.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, breaking the hushed quiet between them, the words emerging almost against his will.

Isabel did not answer right away. She kept her eyes on the horizon, as if the endless waves might offer some profound answer, some solace. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, thick with the kind of exhaustion that stemmed from deep emotional wounds, not mere physical fatigue. “I don’t know,” she admitted, the words a raw, honest confession. “I’m trying to be.”

Christopher did not push her for more. He knew all too well the delicate nature of heartbreak, the insidious way it clung to people like a shadow, clinging to their very essence. It was not his place to heal her. That was something no golden arrow or divine intervention could truly fix. However, there was a part of him, the human part he tried so desperately to bury, that yearned to help her, to simply ease the crushing weight of whatever pain she carried. He felt an urge, primal and unfamiliar, to reach out, to offer a silent strength.

They stood side by side for a long while, neither of them speaking, the silence not awkward but almost comforting, a shared space of quiet vulnerability. Christopher felt the faint, subtle tug of something deeper as their breathing gradually synced. It was a silent, rhythmic connection under the vast, watchful sky.

“Have you been in Ibiza long?” he asked after a time, though he already knew the answer. Her aura, a subtle shimmer visible only to him, still carried the faint dust of travel.

A soft, melancholic laugh escaped her, barely more than a sigh. “Just passing through.” She paused before adding, the words tinged with weariness, “I needed to get away for a while.”

There it was. The reason she was here, laid bare without needing to pry. Her heartbreak was so evident in her voice, in the subtle slump of her shoulders, that Christopher did not need to push to understand. She had come here to escape something… or someone. “Ibiza has a way of helping people forget,” he said quietly, though a cynical part of him knew that was not always true. Not really. Forgetting was never as easy as it sounded, and even here, in this place of endless distraction and fleeting pleasures, the wounds of the past had a way of clinging, burrowing deep into the soul.

Isabel’s lips curled into a sad, wistful smile. “I hope so.”

Christopher studied her for a moment, feeling that overwhelming urge to comfort her, to somehow ease the unbearable burden she carried. It was reckless to get this close. He was Cupid, and the ancient laws were explicitly clear. He was not allowed to feel love for a mortal, not in the way humans did. Yet, as he stood beside her, something inside him stirred. Something unfamiliar, something exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time, like the first tremor of an earthquake deep within the earth. “You know,” he said after a beat, his voice gentle, empathetic, "it’s okay not to be okay.”

Isabel turned to look at him, her expression softening. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

He nodded slowly, understanding more than she could ever fathom. “It never does.”

The moonlight continued to bathe the beach in silver, casting long, intertwining shadows across the sand. They stood in silence again, letting the rhythmic sound of the waves fill the vast, silent space between them. Christopher’s mind raced, a whirlwind of ancient duty battling this unexpected, potent connection. He could not explain why he felt drawn to her, but he did. It was not just the visible pain she wore so clearly, it was something else, something deeper, something he could not name. There was a resonance, a vulnerability, a raw, beautiful honesty that appealed to a part of him he had long suppressed.

As they stood there, the distance between them felt impossibly small, too intimate. For a fleeting, dangerous moment, Christopher wondered if this was how it started. How love bloomed in human hearts. The initial spark of connection, the shared silence, the unspoken understanding. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that he could not allow himself to go down that path. He could not. He was not allowed to feel this, to want this. It was too dangerous—for both of them. The price of his transgression would be unimaginable.

“I should probably go,” Isabel said softly, breaking the fragile spell that had settled around them. “It’s late.”

Christopher nodded, though a part of him ached with a profound emptiness at the thought of her leaving. “Yeah. Take care.”

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze lingering, as if there was something more she wanted to say, some unspoken question hanging in the air. Then, she gave him a small, almost imperceptible smile, a ghost of a real one, and turned to walk away, her silhouette fading into the inky blackness beyond the moonlit sand.

As she disappeared into the night, Christopher stood alone once more, staring after her, a phantom ache blooming in his chest. His heart, something he had thought he could control for centuries, felt unsteady, a wild drum beating a new rhythm. This was dangerous. He knew it with every fibre of his immortal being. The pull was there, though, undeniable and growing stronger with each passing second. He could feel the immense weight of what was coming, the inevitable conflict that would arise if he let himself get closer to her. Even as his mind screamed at him to let her go, to walk away, his heart, newly awakened, whispered something else entirely.

For the first time in millennia, Christopher felt like he was standing on the precipice of something he could not control. Something vastly bigger than himself. A cosmic imbalance and the terrifying, exhilarating truth was, a part of him, the deepest, most buried part, was tired of resisting.

CONTINUE READING