Page 2 of Ocean's Whisper

"Come on," Mara teased, "gorgeous woman like you must have men fighting for your attention."

"The only males fighting for my attention are the specimens in tank four," Isolde laughed, attempting to deflect.

"Wait, is Isolde single?" One of the newer interns whispered too loudly to his colleague.

Heat crawled up Isolde's neck. "Actually, I do have plans tonight."

The words tumbled out before she could stop them. A blatant lie, but preferable to the pitying looks that would follow the admission that she'd be spending her birthday eve alone, watching documentaries in her pajamas.

"Ooh, mysterious." Brad wiggled his eyebrows. "Anyone we know?"

Isolde tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just someone from college." The lie expanded, taking shape. "He's in town for the weekend."

"Well, don't let us keep you then." Dr. Thompson checked his watch. "It's almost five anyway."

Isolde finished her cake quickly, thanked everyone with what she hoped were convincing smiles, and grabbed her purse from her locker.

"Have fun tonight!" Mara called after her.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Brad added with a wink.

Isolde waved, her smile fixed in place until the door swung shut behind her. In the corridor, she exhaled deeply, her shoulders slumping.

The parking lot beckoned—freedom just steps away. As she pushed through the exit doors, the late afternoon sun momentarily blinded her. Isolde fumbled in her purse for sunglasses, dropping her keys in the process.

She bent to retrieve them, her hair falling forward like a curtain. A strange tingling sensation rippled through her fingertips as she touched the metal keys on the ground. For a heartbeat, she felt a peculiar connection to the nearby ocean waves crashing against the shore as if they moved in time with her pulse. Isolde straightened, shaking off the odd feeling. Probably just the birthday blues playing tricks on her mind.

Isolde slid into her silver Lexus, tossing her purse onto the passenger seat. The car smelled faintly of sea salt and sunscreen that perpetually clung to her skin and hair. She gripped her steering wheel for a moment and took a deep breath.

"Happy almost birthday to me," she murmured.

She pressed the ignition switch, and the engine purred to life, reliable and steady like everything else she chose for her practical life. The coastal highway stretched before her, the ocean a constant companion. Isolde drove with the windows down, letting the salt-laden breeze whip her hair into wild tangles she'd regret dealing with later. Right now, she didn't care. The wind against her skin felt like freedom, the only gift she might receive on her thirtieth birthday.

Her houseboat came into view as she rounded the final bend—a modest but charming blue and white structure bobbing gently at the end of the dock. Most people found it strange that a professional woman with her credentials chose to live on what was essentially a floating tiny house. But the constant embrace of water beneath her feet made her feel secure in a way traditional foundations never had.

Isolde pulled into her designated parking space and killed the engine. The sudden silence felt oppressive. No chirping phone with birthday eve messages. No plans. Just the gentle lap of waves against wood and the distant cry of seagulls.

Inside her floating home, Isolde kicked off her shoes and padded barefoot across the polished wooden floors. The compact space was immaculate—everything in its place, minimalist but comfortable. She opened the freezer and pulled out a frozen dinner, staring at the unappetizing image on the box.

"Gourmet birthday feast," she snorted, peeling back the plastic film before shoving it into the microwave.

While her dinner rotated, she changed into worn jean shorts and her favorite threadbare Boston T-shirt from her undergraduate days. The microwave beeped as she finished braiding her hair to keep it from tangling further.

Isolde ate standing at her kitchen counter, gazing out the porthole windows at the darkening sky. The sunset was beginning, painting the horizon in shades of amber and rose. The food tasted like nothing in her mouth.

"This is pathetic." She tossed the half-eaten meal into the trash. "I refuse to spend the last night of my twenties feeling sorry for myself."

Decision made, Isolde slipped on her sandals and grabbed a light jacket. The beach called to her—it always did when shefelt lonely. Within minutes, she was walking along the shoreline where the sand stretched empty in both directions.

The setting sun cast a golden pathway across the water's surface, beckoning her forward. Isolde let her sandals dangle from her fingers as her toes sank into the cool, damp sand. With each step, the day's frustration melted away, replaced by the familiar comfort of her oldest friend—the ocean itself.

"God, I've missed you," she whispered to the waves, feeling oddly less ridiculous talking to water than she perhaps should have. "Work's been all microscopes and data lately. Not enough of... this."

She swept her arm toward the horizon where the sun melted into the water. The waves surged forward suddenly, rushing to greet her ankles. Isolde laughed, delighted by the cool caress against her skin.

"Are you saying you missed me too?"

Another bigger wave rushed in, swirling playfully around her calves. A curious sensation tingled up her legs—almost like recognition.

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