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As she spoke, Charlotte felt a pang of longing deep within her. She longed for those same moments with Simon, to hold his hand and feel the warmth of his love wash over her like the tide. But the thought of his past with this woman gnawed at the edges of her happiness, casting a shadow over the potential future they could build together.
"Simon was such a passionate man," the woman sighed wistfully. "He has a way of making you feel like you're the only person in the world who matters. It's intoxicating, really."
Charlotte swallowed hard, her throat tightening as the familiar weight of insecurity settled upon her shoulders. As much as she wanted to dismiss this figment as nothing more than a manifestation of her fears, she couldn't help but wonder if there was truth in the words. Was she enough for Simon? Could she ever truly measure up to the woman who had come before her?
"Enjoy your time with him, Charlotte," the woman said with a knowing smile as she turned to leave. "But remember, the sea has a way of returning—when a tide goes out, it always comes back."
As the woman disappeared into the crowd, Charlotte stood alone on the harbor, her heart heavy with the unspoken questions that lingered between them.
Charlotte's eyes were locked on the woman as she glided away, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt a sudden push from behind, and before she could react, she stumbled forward and toppled off the edge of the pier. The sensation of weightlessness consumed her, the air around her crisp and cold, carrying the scent of salt and seaweed.
As Charlotte plunged into the water, the shock of its icy embrace stole her breath away. Her limbs flailed, instinctively trying to break her fall, but the sea swallowed her whole, wrapping her in a frigid shroud that seemed to drain her strength with every passing second. The piercing cold bit at her skin, exacerbating the vulnerability she already felt.
"Simon!" she cried out, her voice barely audible under the crashing waves. "Help me!"
Her plea hung in the air, unanswered, as her vision blurred and darkened. When the water finally released her, allowing her to surface and gasp for breath, she saw Simon standing at the edge of the pier, his gaze fixed on the retreating figure of his ex-wife. His expression was one of longing and regret, as if he had been ripped away from something precious.
"Simon," Charlotte choked out again, the desperation in her voice unmistakable. But it was as if he couldn't hear her, or worse, didn't want to.
To her horror, Simon reached out his arms and embraced the woman, holding her close as their lips met in a passionate kiss. Charlotte watched, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces, as Simon his back on her — both literally and metaphorically.
Bitter tears filled her eyes, blurring the heart-wrenching scene before her. How could this be happening? Why was Simon choosing this woman over her? Was it because she was more beautiful, more alluring? Or were the bonds of their shared past simply too strong to break?
As Charlotte struggled to stay afloat, the doubt and insecurity that had been gnawing at her soul turned into a crushing weight, dragging her down beneath the surface. She could feel the water filling her lungs, smothering her, as she tried to scream Simon's name one last time.
"Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Don't forget me."
The water swallowed her. She couldn't breathe. The light from above faded as she sank deeper and deeper, and deeper…
***
Charlotte's eyes snapped open, her heart pounding as if it was trying to break free from her chest. Gasping for air, she sat up on the bed, trying to make sense of the vivid dream that felt all too real. Her sheets were soaked with sweat, clinging to her body like a second skin.
"Yikes," she whispered, her voice quivering with lingering terror and confusion. The remnants of the dream clung to her mind like a stubborn fog, refusing to dissipate and leave her in peace. She could still feel the cold water pressing against her lungs, the desperate betrayal that had ripped through her as Simon embraced his ex-wife.
"Pull yourself together, Charlotte," she muttered, shaking her head in an attempt to banish the images from her mind. "It was just a dream." But despite her words, the fear continued to coil in her gut, tightening its grip on her every thought.
Forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths, Charlotte tried to focus on the present moment. She looked around the familiar room of The Old Crown Inn, taking in the soft golden light that filtered through the curtains and the comforting creaks of the old floorboards beneath her feet. "I'm safe," she reminded herself, over and over again. "I'm here, in Chesham Cove, far away from Daniel and New York."
But even as she repeated the mantra, Charlotte couldn't shake the feeling that the dream had left behind — a nagging sensation that she was somehow not enough for Simon, that the woman from his past would always be a shadow looming over their relationship. The fear gnawed at her insides, bitter and unrelenting.
"Stop it!" she scolded herself, clenching her fists. "You're stronger than this.” She wiped the sweat from her brow and forced herself to lie back down, determined to reclaim whatever sleep she could before the morning light chased away the darkness.
The memory of the dream clung to Charlotte like a film of cold sweat, her heart still thudding painfully against her ribcage. It wasn't just the shock of being pushed into the water that haunted her; it was the way Simon had looked at his ex-wife—with love and adoration. The image gnawed at her insides, feeding her deepest insecurities about their relationship.
"Simon has been nothing but kind and supportive since you arrived in Chesham Cove."
But the tendrils of doubt continued to wrap themselves around her thoughts, tightening their hold with every step she took. In her dream, the woman had embodied everything Charlotte feared she wasn't—beautiful, graceful, and seemingly perfect for Simon. She couldn't help but wonder if that's how he saw her too, when he thought back to his past marriage.
She glanced down at her hands, which were shaking slightly. "Am I just a pale imitation of the woman he once loved?"
As she lay there, the room seemed to grow smaller, the walls closing in on her. She needed air, space to think, and so she got out of bed and stepped out onto the balcony, feeling the cool breeze on her face. The stars above twinkled brightly, as though mocking her own dimmed spirits.
"Get a grip, Charlotte," she scolded herself softly.
She knew, deep down, that her relationship with Simon was built on more than just a shared history of pain. They had forged something new together, something beautiful and real—a connection that transcended their individual scars. But that didn't stop the nagging fear that she might not be enough for him.
Can I really compete with a ghost? she wondered, her eyes scanning the horizon as though searching for an answer. Or am I destined to live in her shadow forever?
