I didn’t know why I was walking toward the edge of the pier that evening. Maybe it was the scent of salt, or the heavy clouds pressing against the sea. But then I saw her.
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She stood still, leaning over the railing, like a porcelain statue dressed in shadows. The wind caught her black dress, revealing the intricate tattoos that snaked down her back — not just ink, but stories… stories etched into her skin like silent screams.
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As my footsteps reached her ears, she turned.
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And in that one moment, everything slowed.
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Her eyes were oceans, drowning in sorrow. A single tear traced the curve of her cheek. Her lips moved slightly, like they were whispering a goodbye she had rehearsed too many times.
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I opened my mouth, but no words came. I was frozen — not just by her beauty, but by the weight she carried.
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Then I saw it — the tattoo on her wrist: a name… “Lia”
And suddenly I remembered.
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She wasn’t a stranger.
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She was the girl I failed to save once.
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And maybe, just maybe…
this time, I still could.
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