They began to practice “keeping going.”
Not because everything was resolved,
but because neither of them wanted to stop.
Sabir was making coffee in the kitchen, and Ella was leaning against the doorway watching him. His movements were smooth, as if he had lived in this kitchen for years. Yet in truth, he had only been here a few times.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, without turning around.
“I’m wondering,” Ella paused, “if we’re moving too fast.”
Sabir stopped and turned to face her. “Do you want to slow down?”
“No,” she shook her head. “I’m just afraid that if we go too deep, it will hurt even more when we stop.”
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Then let’s not stop.”
“But if we keep going,” Ella’s voice softened, “what will happen?”
“I don’t know,” Sabir stepped closer. “But I do know I don’t want to go back to the person who just says, ‘I was in a meeting.’”
Ella looked at him and suddenly smiled. “You’ve changed.”
“So have you,” he said. “You asked the question instead of pretending everything was fine.”
They began to practice “keeping going” —
not because they weren’t afraid,
but because they were willing to risk the pain.
---
That night, they went to the beach.
The tide was rising, slow but unstoppable, like time itself. Sabir held her hand, saying nothing. Ella didn’t ask too many questions either.
She knew that sometimes “keeping going” didn’t need explanations — just walking together.
“I wonder,” she suddenly spoke, “if Elara and Raphael started like this.”
Sabir looked at her. “Maybe they tried too hard at the beginning, and that’s why they lost their way.”
“What about us?” Ella asked.
“We’re practicing,” Sabir said. “Maybe we won’t get it right at first, but we can keep practicing.”
They stood at the beach for a long time, until the wind grew cold, and then slowly walked back.
They practiced “keeping going,”
not to prove anything,
but because they wanted to walk forward — together.
---