Lana was a deep-sea surveyor for seven years. Ethan was her dive partner — and her boyfriend. The first rule of diving: never let your dive partner leave your sight. Ethan broke it thirteen times. Every time, it was for Chloe, a girl who couldn't even swim. The thirteenth time, Lana hit turbulence at a hundred and thirty feet. Her breathing tube caught on the reef. Thirty seconds — trapped in the pitch-black ocean, the only thought in her mind: I wish he were here. She climbed ashore, opened her phone, and saw Ethan in the shallow pool, holding Chloe's waist. Her left ear was silent. Perforated eardrum — permanently disqualified from diving. Career over. She signed her transfer to New Zealand and left without telling him. He followed. He brought the rescue whistle she had hung around his neck — the one he had given to Chloe. She had a colleague throw it in the trash. On Christmas Eve, she let him inside and made a cup of hot cocoa. He finished, set down the bowl, and said three words: "I'm sorry." Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, the buzzing in her left ear finally stopped.
