Jin-ah stood alone on the beach as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of pink and orange. Her hands, weathered by years of toil, moved with practiced grace, sweeping grains of salt into delicate patterns on the sand. Each swirl, each petal, was a prayer. A promise.

It had been seven years since Minho, her lover, disappeared. The sea had claimed him—or so the villagers whispered, though no body had ever been found. Every year, on the anniversary of his disappearance, Jin-ah returned to this beach, to the place where they had first met, to the place where their love had blossomed like the delicate flowers in the fields of salt. She believed that the salt patterns, the ones she had crafted with hands full of memories, would guide his spirit back to her.

Salt flowers. The elders spoke of them in hushed tones—of how they bloomed only for the most devoted hearts. They were said to summon souls lost to the ocean’s depths, leading them home with the purest of offerings.

Jin-ah’s heart had never given up on the hope that Minho’s spirit would find its way back through her art, just as he had once found his way to her when she was just a girl with wide, uncertain eyes. They had met by the shore, both running from something—him from his past, her from her solitude—and had found in each other a rare kind of love, the kind that seemed to exist only in stories.

Now, alone, she worked tirelessly each year to create a new design, always more intricate than the last, believing each line of salt could bridge the gap between the living and the dead. The villagers had long given up on her, calling her a fool, a woman lost to grief. But she had never cared for their judgment. The salt patterns were her only hope, the only thread binding her to Minho.

Tonight, as the final touches of her design took shape—a sprawling spiral that bloomed in the center like the heart of a flower—Jin-ah felt a chill in the air. The wind, once gentle, picked up, swirling around her, and she paused, eyes narrowing as the sand around her began to shift.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The ocean lapped against the shore with a rhythm almost like a heartbeat, a pulse she hadn’t noticed in years. The salt patterns before her shimmered, a soft glow rising from the edges of each petal she had made.

Then, as if pulled by an unseen force, the wind stilled. The air was heavy with silence. Jin-ah’s heart raced in her chest, her hands trembling.

“Minho?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crashing waves.

For a long moment, there was no answer. The beach was empty, just as it always had been. But then, just as she was about to turn away, she heard it—a faint, almost imperceptible sound. A whisper carried by the wind. Her heart skipped.

Jin-ah dropped to her knees beside the salt flowers, her fingers brushing the delicate pattern she had made. A shadow passed over the sand, and her breath caught in her throat. The sea seemed to pull back, as if exhaling the breath it had been holding for so long.

And then, through the haze of salt and sea mist, she saw him.

Minho stood at the edge of the water, his figure barely visible, but his eyes—those eyes she had loved—shone with a deep, unspoken sorrow. His presence was faint, like a dream just before it slipped away. But it was him, she knew it.

He didn’t speak. Instead, he gazed at her, a sad smile on his lips. His figure seemed to waver with the tide, as though he were part of the very ocean itself. His form flickered, uncertain, caught between two worlds—the living and the dead.

Jin-ah reached toward him, her heart aching with longing. But before she could take a step, he began to fade, his image dissolving into the mist.

“Minho!” she cried, but her voice was lost to the wind.

The sea roared louder, and the moment was gone. The salt flowers remained, glowing faintly in the twilight. Jin-ah knelt beside them, her hands trembling, unsure whether she had truly seen him or if it was only the echo of her wish.

But in her heart, she knew. He had come. He had found her.

And though the sea had taken him from her once, it had now returned him, even if only for a moment. The salt flowers had done their work. The patterns had guided him home.

Jin-ah’s heart, though still heavy with sorrow, felt lighter. She had given him back to the sea, and the sea had, in turn, returned him to her, even if only as a fleeting vision. She would continue her work, year after year, crafting salt flowers for the soul she had loved, knowing that someday, when the time was right, he would return fully, as she had always known he would.

Until then, she would wait by the shore, the wind her only companion, and the salt her eternal offering.