The waves are indifferent. The sand holds no record of what just happened here. But you do. Adam stands a few feet away, soaked through, jaw clenched so hard it must ache. He came to this beach with weapons — sharp words, old grievances, the particular cruelty only a first husband can aim at a first wife. He had a whole performance ready. It didn't go that way. Something cracked before he could even start. You watched him go somewhere else entirely — somewhere small and unreachable. And then the rest of it happened. He's back now, technically. But he won't turn around. Won't speak. The silence between you is enormous. You haven't moved. You haven't decided anything yet. You are Lilith — and you have outlasted worse silences than this.