Welcome Back, Elliot Grey

The waves rolled in rhythm — soft, steady, like the world had finally learned how to breathe.

Elliot sat on the bench, his coat damp from the sea air, his hands cradling the paper cup June had given him.

She sat beside him, not too close, not too far.

The silence between them was different this time.

Not awkward.

Just… waiting.

June glanced sideways.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked gently.

"Your hands were trembling a little while ago."

Elliot didn't answer at first.

Then, without looking at her, he muttered:

"Not at all."

The coffee in his hands rippled slightly.

The waves in his chest were louder.

"Everyone and everything blames me."

He didn't know why he said it out loud.

But now that it was out, it wouldn't stop.

"My wife… Claire. She said I was boring. Cold. That she found someone who could give her a normal life. And she was right. I signed the papers without a second thought. I thought that made me decent. Selfless."

He shook his head.

"But maybe it just made me empty."

He looked out over the ocean, and his voice dropped lower.

"Then there's the voice I keep hearing. Calls itself God sometimes. Says strange things like 'accept what life gives.' Talks like a priest in a dream. Says I should go out and enjoy life before I die a terrible death."

He gave a weak smile, as if trying to laugh at it, but it didn't stick.

"I used to think maybe I was losing it. That grief was playing tricks on me. But then there's another voice — hers. Claire's voice.

Colder. Sharper. She tells me I'm worthless. That June doesn't care about me. That I'm just something people tolerate until they find someone better."

He paused.

"And right before you came… I passed out here.My head, I don't know — everything blurred. And I saw it."

He gripped the cup tighter.

"A courtroom. Massive. Black and white.

The judge, the prosecutor, the jury — all of them were Claire. They put me on trial for existing. Showed every failure I've ever made.

Lily. Claire. My job. My silence. And I had no defense attorney. No one to speak for me."

He swallowed.

"Until you walked in."

He glanced at her now — just briefly.

"You said I wasn't guilty. That you'd prove it.

Then they gave you a week. One week before I get the death sentence."

He let out a long breath.

"I don't know if it means I'm going to die.

Or just finally lose everything completely.

I don't even know if I believe in God."

He laughed — bitter, quiet.

"But if God is real, he's either cruel… or he's me. A voice I made up to keep myself from falling apart."

He turned fully now, meeting June's gaze for the first time since he sat down.

"You want the truth? I'm not afraid of dying.

I'm afraid of existing like this forever."

The coffee had gone cold in his hands.

But her presence hadn't.

She reached over and gently placed her hand over his — not squeezing, not pulling — just covering.

He stared down at their hands.

And for a long time, neither of them spoke.

The ocean did all the talking.

End of Chapter 11