Chapter Four: Catching Feelings by Rosaline Saul

The night air was thick with salt and the lingering hum of distant music. The clubs had exploded to life, and Ibiza, always a pulse of energy, was now beating with its usual intensity.

Away from the chaos, on a secluded stretch of beach, there was a quiet that felt almost sacred. The Mediterranean stretched out like black glass beneath a moon that hung heavy in the sky, casting everything in a pale, silvery glow.

Christopher needed the escape. After hours of mixing tracks and weaving invisible connections, the weight of his duties had pressed down harder than usual. The night had been full of successful pairings, lovers pulled together through his music, but it had not brought him the satisfaction it once did. Instead, it only reminded him of what he could not have.

He walked barefoot along the shoreline, the cool water brushing against his feet, his thoughts lost in the rhythm of the waves. His mind had been drifting more and more lately, always circling back to the same place—to the face of a woman he did not know but could not seem to forget. She had appeared in his life only briefly, but something about her lingered like an unplayed note, waiting to be heard. It was irrational, dangerous even, to let himself think about her like this, but there was a pull he could not deny.

Christopher stopped, staring out over the endless sea. He was a god. His role had always been clear: to foster love in others, to keep his heart untouchable, immune to the very emotions he created in humans, but here, under the quiet of the moon, with only the ocean and his thoughts, he felt the walls around his heart tremble just slightly.

For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder—what if?

The sound of footsteps in the sand pulled him from his thoughts. He turned, instinctively guarded, and saw her.

She stood just a few feet away, her silhouette illuminated by the moonlight, her gaze cast out toward the sea. There was something about her, a quiet sadness that tugged at him, even from a distance. She had not seen him yet, lost in her own thoughts as she walked slowly along the beach, hugging her arms around herself for warmth. She looked like she was trying to hold herself together, to stop from falling apart completely.

He knew he should leave. It was a small island, and it was only a matter of time before they crossed paths again, but this… this was too close. Too real. He could not move.

Isabel stopped a few paces away, finally noticing him. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, but there was no fear in her gaze, only curiosity and something softer—perhaps relief at not being the only one out here.

“Hi,” she said, her voice barely audible over the whisper of the waves.

Christopher smiled, the kind that hid a thousand unsaid words. “Hi,” he replied, his voice calm, though inside, something was shifting. He should not be here. He should not want to be here, but he could not help it.

They stood in silence for a moment, the world around them shrinking into just this stretch of beach, just the two of them. Isabel turned back to the water, and Christopher watched her, sensing the heavy weight she carried. She was not just another woman on the island here to escape reality for a while. She was hurting, her heart still raw from whatever had broken it.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, breaking the quiet between them.

Isabel did not answer right away. She kept her eyes on the horizon, as if the waves might offer some sort of answer. When she spoke, her voice was low, thick with the kind of exhaustion that came from emotional wounds, not physical ones. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m trying to be.”

Christopher did not push her for more. He knew all too well the delicate nature of heartbreak, the way it clung to people like a shadow. It was not his place to heal her—that was something no arrow or divine intervention could fix but there was a part of him, the human part he tried so hard to bury, that wanted to help her, to ease the weight of whatever pain she carried.

They stood side by side for a while, neither of them speaking. The silence was not awkward—it was almost comforting. Christopher felt the tug of something deeper as their breathing synced with each other.

“Have you been in Ibiza long?” he asked after a time, though he already knew the answer.

A soft laugh escaped her. “Just passing through.” She paused before adding, “I needed to get away for a while.”

There it was. The reason she was here. Her heartbreak was so evident in her voice that Christopher did not need to pry to understand. She had come here to escape something—or someone. He did not press further, sensing the fragility in her response.

“Ibiza has a way of helping people forget,” he said quietly, though he knew that was not always true. Not really. Forgetting was not as easy as it sounded, and even here, in this place of endless distraction, the wounds of the past had a way of clinging to people.

Isabel’s lips curled into a sad smile. “I hope so.”

Christopher studied her for a moment, feeling that pull again—the urge to comfort her, to somehow ease the burden she carried. It was dangerous to get too close. He was Cupid, and the laws were clear. He was not allowed to feel love for a mortal, and yet, as he stood beside her, something inside him stirred. Something unfamiliar, something exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time.

“You know,” he said after a beat, “it’s okay not to be okay.”

Isabel turned to look at him, her expression softening. “It doesn’t feel that way sometimes.”

He nodded, understanding more than he should. “It never does.”

The moonlight bathed the beach in silver, casting long shadows across the sand. They stood in silence again, letting the sound of the waves fill the silent space between them. Christopher’s mind raced, trying to find the balance between his duty and this unexpected connection. He could not explain why he felt drawn to her, but he did. It was not just the pain she wore so clearly—it was something else, something he could not name.

As they stood there, the distance between them felt too small, too intimate. For a moment, Christopher wondered if this was how it started—how love bloomed in human hearts. The spark of connection, the shared silence, the unspoken understanding. He could not allow himself to go down that path. He could not. He was not allowed to feel this, to want this. It was too dangerous—for both of them.

“I should probably go,” Isabel said softly, breaking the spell. “It’s late.”

Christopher nodded, though part of him ached at the thought of her leaving. “Yeah. Take care.”

She hesitated for a moment, as if there was something more she wanted to say, but then she gave him a small smile and turned to walk away.

As she disappeared into the night, Christopher stood alone once more, staring after her. His heart, something he had thought he could control for so long, felt unsteady in his chest. This was dangerous. He knew it. The pull was there, though, undeniable and growing stronger. He could feel the weight of what was coming, the conflict that would arise if he let himself get closer to her. Even as his mind screamed at him to let her go, to walk away, his heart whispered something else entirely.

For the first time in centuries, Christopher felt like he was standing on the edge of something he could not control—something bigger than himself.

Continue reading 5/?

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