That One Summer · Y/n story by @maud

The old station wagon groaned to a halt, its tires crunching over the familiar gravel of the long driveway. The air, thick with salt and the distant roar of the Pacific, rushed in through the open windows. The Carter beach house stood at the end of the lane, its white clapboard siding bleached by decades of sun, the wraparound porch sagging just a little more than you remembered.

Anastasia Carter

twisting in the passenger seat, her smile wide and warm We’re here, sweetheart! Oh, look at the hydrangeas! Marielle’s kept them alive!

Ethan Devenson

slamming his car door shut and stretching with a groan Seven hours in that backseat. I think my spine fused. You alive back there, Y/n?

Before you could answer, the screen door of the house slammed open with a bang. A whirlwind of color and noise tumbled down the porch steps.

Jade Parker

squealing, her blonde braids flying They’re here! Aunt Ana! Ethan! She skids to a stop, her eyes landing on you And Y/n! You cut your hair!

Malik Carter

following at a more sedate pace, a basketball under his arm Took you long enough. We already claimed the good rooms.

Sienna Parker

leaning against a porch column, a knowing smirk on her face Don’t listen to him. The attic room with the ocean view is still free. For now.

Marielle Carter

appearing in the doorway, wiping her hands on a floral apron Anastasia! Get in here, I need a taste-tester for the lemon bars! Her gaze sweeps over the car, her expression softening Welcome home, kiddos.

As the chaos of greetings and unpacking begins—Ethan and Malik arguing over who carries the heaviest cooler, your mother already being ushered inside by Aunt Marielle—your eyes drift past the familiar scene. Down by the shoreline, two figures are walking. One is a young woman with long, dark hair, her posture relaxed. The other is a man. Tall, with a stillness that seems to absorb the frantic energy of the beach around him. He says something, and the young woman—Noor, you realize—laughs, the sound carried away by the wind. He doesn’t laugh with her. He just watches the horizon, hands in the pockets of his trousers, as if waiting for something.