Page 549 of The Sinner: James

Every day, I wake up, hoping one of them will bring him home. When it doesn’t happen, I keep my hope alive by swimming in the ocean and trying to forget.

After that, I stroll down the shore, and when the sun dips toward the horizon, I stay still and watch the slow motion in awe.

In the evenings, I return to the house, have a frugal dinner, and write some more.

It’s usually past midnight when I think of him with love, anticipating the day he’d hold me in his arms.

I wish that day could be today.

My eyes hover over the water as the afternoon light rolls over the beach, making the sand glimmer.

One of the boats seems to be getting closer but vanishes behind the island.

Today is not that day, I guess.

I remove my dress, drop it to the sand, and walk into the ocean.

Soon, warm water drapes over my shoulders.

I swim for a few good minutes before floating on my back, looking up at the sky.

My ears are filled with water that blocks out the noise.

All I hear is the thumping of my heart and my breaths. My mind quiets down, and a smile touches my lips.

The moment is perfect.

I spend a few more minutes in this magnificent state of relaxation before touching the ocean floor with my feet and wringing the water out of my hair.

Before long, I make the trip back.

Beads of water cling to my skin when I collect my dress and put it on.

A noise comes from the house, catching my attention, but I can’t figure out what it is.

Perhaps a dialogue, the voices ringing louder and louder. It’s different than what I’m used to on this island.

Raking my fingers through my hair, I look in that direction.

The trees block my view, but even so, I glimpse a white shirt and the back of a man who has… dark hair?

My heart jumps in my chest.

I bring my hand to my eyes and block the light, hoping to see him again.

Is it my imagination?

The gusts of wind move the leaves, obliterating my view even more. Hesitantly, I step in that direction, and then I stop.

The leaves part for a moment, and I get a better view.

‘It’s him,’ my heart screams.

It could be anyone, a skeptical voice says in my head.

The man in question turns around and vanishes behind a wall of vegetation just when I’m about to see his face.

It must be him.

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