The year passed slowly.
Seasons came and went like old songs played on repeat familiar, gentle, and melancholic. The village of Evermore slipped into its rhythms once more, but for Lily, each day felt like standing still.
She returned to her work in the herb garden, resumed visits to the small schoolhouse to help children with their reading, and even spent evenings stitching clothes again. But in the quiet spaces between chores and smiles, her thoughts always wandered back to the sea.
Every month, on the night of the full moon, Lily went to the cliff the one where she'd last seen Sam in her dream. She carried the shell, now dulled with time, and sat beneath the stars. Sometimes, she whispered. Sometimes, she cried. Other times, she said nothing at all.
Her heart never stopped listening.
But no message came. No voice. No dream.
By the sixth month, even the villagers stopped talking. Her story had become old news, a sad melody only remembered by a few. Some still pitied her. Others grew tired of waiting on her behalf. The world, it seemed, moved on.
But Lily didn't.
Still, as the twelfth month neared, something inside her began to shift. It wasn't sudden. It wasn't even clear. But one morning, as she stood on the pier watching a fisherman's boat return, she realized her eyes no longer searched the horizon the way they once had. She wasn't sure when it had started perhaps in autumn, when the wind changed, or winter, when she caught a fever and Sam's name didn't cross her lips once during those long, aching days.
Or maybe it was when she saw her parents watching her with quiet sorrow, as if waiting for her to breathe again.
Whatever it was, it stayed.
By the twelfth month, Lily still waited but not with desperation. She waited like one waits for a bird that flew away. If it came back, she'd be glad. If not, she would still love the sky.
---
The night before the year was complete, Lily returned to the cliff one last time.
The moon hung low, a silver coin pressed into the heavens. The sea below glimmered like liquid glass. She wore the same coat Sam had once wrapped around her, though the edges had frayed, and the scent of him had long faded.
She sat, not crying, not hoping. Just still.
The breeze was soft, not wild like that night long ago. It didn't carry voices. Only the hush of waves against rocks.
She held the shell, cradled in her palm like a memory. Then, with a trembling breath, she kissed it and laid it on the stone.
"I waited," she whispered.
There was no answer.
She didn't need one anymore.
She rose and walked home.
---
Three days later, the prince returned.
The sound of his arrival stirred the village once again, though this time the reactions were quieter more cautious. He came not with fanfare, but with a single escort and no grand speeches. His presence was different now: less like a legend, more like a man returning to keep his word.
He asked to see her the next morning.
Lily stood beneath the fig tree again, wearing a simple blue dress. The wind played with her hair, and for the first time in a long time, she felt its touch without thinking of someone else.
The prince approached slowly, respectfully. His face had changed over the year. The sharpness in his eyes had softened, replaced with something deeper. He bowed slightly.
"A year," he said. "And still, you're here."
"I said I would be," Lily replied.
He nodded. "I didn't know if you meant it. I wasn't sure if you'd have changed your mind. Or your heart."
She looked away. "My heart has changed. But not how you think."
He stepped closer. "Tell me."
"I loved him," she said simply. "Maybe I still do. But I've realized love doesn't always mean holding on. Sometimes, it's knowing when to let go."
The prince was silent.
"I waited for him," she continued. "Not because I believed in miracles, but because I believed in what we shared. I wanted to be sure of myself, of everything."
"And now?"
She looked at him, eyes clear. "Now I'm ready to walk forward."
He smiled then, not with triumph, but with something like relief.
"Will you come with me?" he asked. "To the kingdom across the sea?"
She hesitated. "It won't be easy."
"No," he agreed. "But nothing worth living ever is."
---
The wedding preparations began quietly this time.
There were no extravagant announcements. No visitors pressing in with curiosity or judgment. Only the steady hands of her mother, sewing a new dress. Only the quiet mornings Lily spent walking along the edge of the sea, saying goodbye in her own way.
She didn't dream of Sam anymore.
But sometimes, when she heard the gulls crying overhead, her heart ached in the softest way.
She allowed herself that.
The prince stayed in the village longer this time. He visited the schoolhouse, shared meals with the elders, walked through the marketplace with her. They talked not of politics or duties, but of books, childhood stories, and favorite songs. And as they did, Lily saw not a prince, but a man learning how to be gentle.
It wasn't a storybook romance.
But it was real.
And that, perhaps, was better.
---
The night before the wedding, Lily stood at the cliff once more.
The shell was still there, where she had left it.
She picked it up, ran her fingers over its rough edge, and held it to her ear one final time.
No voice. Only the rush of waves.
She smiled.
"I'll carry you in my heart," she whispered to the wind, "but I won't wait by the sea anymore."
Then she tucked the shell into her pocket not to forget, but to remember with peace.
She turned and walked away.
This time, the stars seemed to nod in approval.
And the sea, quiet and calm, said nothing at all.....