I slowly turned, already ready to see some random woman who looked like Monica.

My heart was pounding as if it might burst out of my chest. A few steps away from us, at the water’s edge, stood a woman in a light, pale dress.

Her hair blew in the wind, her silhouette painfully familiar. For a moment, the world ceased to exist—I truly believed in the impossible.

But then she turned. Her facial features were different. Similar hair color, similar smile—and nothing more. The stranger looked at us awkwardly, noticing Emma’s fixed gaze.

I knelt and gently took my daughter by the shoulders.
— That’s not Mom, sweetheart… She’s just a woman who looks a little like her.

Emma’s eyes filled with tears.
— But I wanted it to be her so badly…

I held her close, feeling the wave of pain rise inside me again.
— Me too, little one. More than anything in the world.

At that moment, I realized: we are both still waiting for a miracle. We still hope to hear her familiar voice, to feel her embrace. But only memories return.

I took Emma in my arms, and we stared at the sea for a long time. Waves come and go, but the ocean remains. So it is with love—even if a person is no longer by our side, it continues to live within us.