Because of that, Alejandra had decided to invite all her closest friends and family to her house in Conil to celebrate her birthday.
Sofia and Ilias flew in from Brazil, fresh from his first title win of the season, which he had dedicated to their future baby. Her parents arrived a little earlier with Carlos, already moving through setting everything up for everyone else’s arrival.
A couple of days later, Gabriella came with Maria and the twins, the house filling quickly with the sound of voices, footsteps, and the constant opening and closing of doors.
Callum arrived with Asma and Leif. The two of them barely left each other’s side, always touching—hands brushing, shoulders leaning in, stolen kisses in the kitchen when they thought no one was looking. It was endearing, the kind of easy affection that made Alejandra quietly smile to herself whenever she caught them.
On the other side of the house, things were anything but easy.
Whatever had happened—or rather, hadn’t happened—between Amira and Carlos had turned him into the grumpiest person alive, while Amira seemed perfectly committed to pretending he didn’t exist. They moved around each other like charged silence, close enough to feel but never close enough to touch. It was painful to watch, and Alejandra wasn’t entirely sure how to fix it.
According to Ilias, there was nothing to fix. Carlos just had to move on with his life.
Alejandra wasn’t convinced. And judging by Sofia’s expression whenever Carlos and Amira were in the same room, neither was she.
She had invited Eira and taid too, even Leonor, but they had all declined, sending their birthday wishes from afar instead.
Conil was full of people—summer had officially arrived—and it felt like going back in time, right before her pro career had kicked off. The crash of waves on the shore filtered through the open window, the fresh sea air swirled around her, and Callum’s arm wrapped tightly around her midsection. It was bliss.
“I have to go down to the beach with Sofia,” Alejandra whispered in Callum’s ear.
“Mmmh,” he mumbled. “I’ll prepare breakfast.”
She kissed him deeply, threw on a bikini and an old tee she’d stolen from Callum’s wardrobe, and slipped out into the backyard with private access to the beach.
“Is Ilias still sleeping?” she asked when she found Sofia waiting alone, her belly popping more than last time. The baby was due in November.
“Yep. He was grumpy, so I left him there. It’s just us three.”
“Gabri?” Alejandra asked.
“Still asleep. And you know she’s never really liked surfing that much.”
Before 8 AM, surfers were allowed to surf anywhere along the Cádiz coast. After that, the beach shifted back into designated zones only, a quiet rule to keep them from colliding with swimmers drifting lazily in the shallows.
The morning was calm. Not the kind of ocean that demanded respect through fear, but the softer kind that almost tempted you into forgetting what it could become.
There weren’t many waves, but they were enough for Sofia’s taste—the small, playful ones she loved, the kind that didn’t ask for courage so much as timing. And for Alejandra, they were something else entirely.
A bridge.
A way back in.
She stayed a moment longer than Sofia before paddling out, letting the board cut through the water beneath her. The salt hit her skin immediately, and for a second her chest tightened in that instinctive way it still sometimes did now. Not fear exactly. Memory.
Pipeline wasn’t here, but her body still remembered it like it was.
The ocean didn’t care, though. It never did.
And maybe that was the only reason she trusted it again.
She eased herself into position, feeling the slow rhythm of the sea underneath her. Not overpowering. Not violent. Just movement—constant, living, patient. Each rise and fall of the water under her board reminded her that she was still part of it, not separate from it. Not an intruder.
When the first small wave lifted her, she didn’t hesitate.
Her muscles reacted before her thoughts could interfere. She stood, steady but aware, every movement measured. The board skimmed forward with a soft rush of water beneath it, and for a brief moment everything narrowed down to balance, breath, and sensation.
No hospital lights. No sirens. No memory of impact.
