When the job ended, everything else slipped with it — the visa, the flat, the version of myself I knew. I had to leave the UK with no plan, no footing. Paola and I ended up by the sea in Italy, unsure of what came next, only certain we were still together.
The sea didn’t ask. It didn’t offer comfort. It just received. We gave it what we had: a bouquet, and each other. That was the moment we chose to hold on — even if it meant doing so underwater.