Meet Me Again...

Her

I muttered, "...I have to spend forty-eight hours on this stupid vacation with my ex from five years ago," as I kicked sand beneath my feet, frustrated by the bizarre situation. Suddenly, a tall, familiar figure approached—his insufferable smile almost burning my eyes with discomfort.

“Hey. Long time,” he said, his voice just as smug as I remembered. He lifted his sunglasses to get a better look at me. Flustered, I wrapped my black towel tighter around myself, shielding my head from the blazing sun.

I forced a thin smile, half hoping the ocean would swallow me whole. “Yeah, I guess it has been a while,” I replied, my voice a bit too high, betraying my nerves.

He walked closer, his footprints leaving perfect patterns in the sand. “You look…exactly the same,” he said, tone unreadable. I couldn’t tell if it was a compliment or just another way to get under my skin. It was always a mystery with him.

I shrugged, gaze fixed on the turquoise water. “Well, you look like you just stepped out of a cologne ad." He grinned, almost proud, as if he’d won some invisible game. “You always did have a way with words.”

The awkwardness between us clung as thick as the humid air. I watched a child run past us, a wild laugh trailing behind. For a flicker of a moment, I almost envied her innocence.

“So, what brings us both to this lovely stretch of sand?” he asked, voice lighter now. He glanced at my towel-shielded head and snorted. “Hiding from me, or the sun?”

“Both,” I shot back, but some of the edge had faded from my tone.

He laughed. As annoying as it was, the sound was almost comforting. Almost. I quickly stood up, not wanting to entertain this man any longer.

I started gathering my things, hoping he’d take the hint. Instead, he dropped down onto the sand beside me, unfazed by my cool reception.

“I’ve got an idea,” he announced, as if we were still on speaking terms. “Let’s make the most of this punishment. We can split the time up into twenty-four hours each. The winner gets the best bed, the loser handles the food runs.”

Despite myself, I almost laughed. “What, like a custody arrangement for misery?”

He shrugged, his smile turning almost sheepish. “Unless you want to spend the whole weekend ignoring me. Which, I have to admit, would be sort of impressive.”

Against all logic, my frustration started to fade. Maybe it was the absurdity of it all, or maybe the sun was getting to my head. “Fine,” I agreed. “But you’re buying the first round of ice cream.”

He stuck out his hand, solemn. “Deal. May the best ex win.” I shook it, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. If nothing else, at least this vacation wouldn’t be boring.

The handshake was more of a truce than a true agreement—awkward, but binding all the same. As soon as it was over, I grabbed my tote and started awkwardly packing up, half hoping to make an escape, half waiting to see what would happen next.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try not to ruin your vacation more than necessary,” came the teasing voice, surprisingly softer this time.

I let out a breath. “We’ll see about that,” I muttered, unable to fully keep the smile from my face as I shielded my eyes from the sun.

Without another word, we set off down the shoreline—not quite together, but not exactly apart. The uneasy silence was broken only by gulls crying overhead and waves crashing at our feet.

After a few minutes, the tension started to unravel, replaced by something lighter, almost silly. We wandered separately but ended up side by side, examining oddly-shaped shells and critiquing the sand sculptures left behind by strangers.

Eventually, there was even laughter—unplanned, sudden, and almost welcome. For once, neither of us was trying to win or prove a point. We simply were: two people forced together by circumstance, balancing frustration with a grudging curiosity about what might come next.

Whatever this weekend had in store, it was clear it wouldn’t be predictable.

However, it wasn’t always like this, though…

Five years earlier, we were tangled in a relationship that mixed thrilling highs with spectacular lows. While their chemistry was undeniable, we struggled to resolve their differences—arguments simmered below the surface, and pride often kept them from making up.

One day, without warning, he broke things off. He said he needed space to figure out his life, but the breakup blindsided me: one day he was there, the next, he was gone. The suddenness of his exit left me with a whirlpool of unanswered questions and unfinished conversations, forcing me to rebuild from scratch.

Over the years apart, I worked through the heartbreak, always wondering why he couldn’t bring himself to talk things through or say goodbye properly. Meanwhile, he kept his distance, unsure if he’d made the right choice but unwilling—or unable—to reach out.

Now, unexpectedly reunited for forty-eight hours, we are forced to confront the past. The awkwardness between us is layered with lingering hurt, unresolved tension, and an uneasy curiosity about whether old wounds can truly heal.

Him

Spotting her on the beach, my heart stumbles—I realize the ache I have carried for five years hasn’t really faded. The sight of her, shielding herself from the sun and the world, reminds me of the little ways she once let me in. Instinctively, I put on the same old swagger, a mask to cover up how much he still cares and how much I don't want to show it too easily.

So much left unsaid has gnawed at me for years. The way I left—without real explanation or goodbye—had more to do with my own confusion than a lack of feeling. In truth, the absence of her warmth only sharpened what I’d lost. I sometimes catch myself picturing what I’d say if I ever got the chance, hoping she’d know the truth: that moving on was never as simple as turning my back.

During our awkward banter, I am hyper-aware of every look and every pause, searching for signs that she might feel even a fraction of what I do. My casual suggestion to split the weekend is more than an attempt to ease tension—it’s a way to relive something playful between them, to reach for a sense of closeness without exposing myself completely.

As the day unravels, I find it almost painful how natural it feels to be near her again. Joking over seashells, I fight the urge to brush sand from her hair or confess just how much I missed her. I tell myself not to hope for anything, but still cling to the possibility that she might see the change in me—or that she might remember the parts of their love worth salvaging.

I tried to be present, laughing not just for her benefit but for my own relief. Underneath it all, I am caught between wanting to make things right and fearing it may be too late. Yet, every moment of shared laughter makes me silently promise myself: I won’t waste this chance to show her—however quietly—that my feelings never really left.

Then, as we walked alongside the ocean, she knelt down, finding a beautiful and delicate blue shell, our fingers brushing together, making both of us blush, trying to look away from the other person.

“You’ve always liked the bright ones.” She said softly, her voice filled with uncertainty and hope. “Want to head to the hotel now? The sun is starting to set soon.” As I watch her looking at the horizon, I wonder what she’s thinking about right now.

Her

I stared at the sun as it dipped below the waves, the wind playing with my hair. I didn’t want to look back at him. After all this time, it still felt strange—heartbreaking, even. My heart ached for what could have been. Maybe this mini vacation is just what we need to sort through our emotions. Old memories merged together, replaying the good, the bad, and the ugly. I stiffened, resisting the urge to turn around, but eventually, I did.

"Being honest with you is harder than pretending I don’t care," I whispered, gazing up at a sky swirling with blue, orange, pink, and red—a beautiful display, as if the universe knew I needed soothing.

Him

I opened my mouth, the truth on my lips, but words failed. For a moment, the world held its breath. Then my phone buzzed in my bag. I glanced at the screen, my brows knitting together, and the guarded look slipped over my face once more. The spell was broken. I stepped back, clutching the delicate blue shell we’d found.

I wanted to reach for her, to say everything I'd kept inside for five years, but as the evening deepened, all I could do was watch her walk away, her silhouette outlined by the last slant of sunlight. My hand curled into a fist, my confession burning unsaid.

Maybe tomorrow, I thought. Maybe tomorrow, before it’s too late…