Promises in The Sand

Promises in The Sand


Amber didn’t want to move.  
Her body felt heavy, her head was spinning, and the breeze slipping through the open window was far too gentle to disturb the light sleep that kept her suspended between calm and lingering desire. Her skin still felt warm, as though traces of the previous night remained (that shameless surrender that had left her drained of strength).

The sound of the door opening forced her to crack one eye open. Ethan appeared in the doorway, impeccable, a tray balanced in his hands.  
The scent of freshly brewed coffee, tropical fruit, and warm bread filled the room.

"Good morning, little insolent one," he murmured in that deep voice that made her skin prickle. "I’m warning you—if you don’t get up now, you’ll spend the entire day in that bed."

Amber let out a lazy groan, barely turning her face toward him.  
"And would that be so terrible?" she asked, a crooked smile on her lips.

Ethan set the tray on the nightstand and sat beside her. The breakfast was a feast: thick mango juice, golden rolls glistening with melted butter, slices of papaya and melon, fluffy scrambled eggs flecked with fresh herbs, and a steaming cup of dark coffee.

"We came to this island to rest, yes," he said, "but also to live a little." He lifted her chin with two fingers. "Come on, open your mouth."

She arched a brow, amused.  
"Are you going to feed me now?"

"Exactly." He scooped up a spoonful of eggs and brought it to her lips. "Behave, or you’ll go without dessert."

Amber gave a small laugh but obeyed. She tasted the bite and closed her eyes, savoring the soft, creamy flavor. Ethan watched her with a tenderness and fascination he could no longer hide.

"You could get used to this," she said with irony. "Seeing me in bed and bringing me breakfast."

"Don’t get too used to it," he replied, a restrained smile tugging at his mouth. "Today you’re getting up. And before you protest, I already know what you’re thinking: that you’re tired, that you need to sleep, that last night was… intense."

Amber half-opened her eyes, pursing her lips.  
"You’re arrogant."

"Maybe, but I’m right." He fed her another bite. "I know you’re exhausted, but I also know you’re dying to go shopping."

She blinked in surprise.  
"How did you know?"

"Because I know you. And because last night, while you were half-asleep, you murmured that you wanted ‘a coral-colored blouse to match the sand.’" He smiled triumphantly as color rose to her cheeks. "So I’m granting that wish. Today is your day, Mrs. Rhodes."

Amber laughed, raising her hands and clapping like an excited child.  
"Really! You mean it!"

"You look like a seal clapping like that," he shot back, laughing.

She glared at him in mock indignation.  
"A seal? How romantic, Ethan."

"An adorable seal," he corrected, dripping sarcasm.

Laughter filled the room—light, almost childish. It was the first time in weeks that the air between them wasn’t thick with reproach or tension. Ethan fed her another bite, and when she sighed contentedly, he murmured absentmindedly:

"My love, you have to finish."

The word hung in the air like a discordant note.  
Amber looked at him in surprise; Ethan blinked, disconcerted, and both fell silent.

"What did you say?" she asked softly.

He swallowed hard, twisting his smile into something awkward.  
"Nothing… just a slip."

But the silence that followed was clearer than any explanation. Amber studied him closely: his jaw set firm, his gaze avoiding hers, the tension tightening his shoulders. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment their relationship had begun to shift—when the arrangement, the duty, the obligation had transformed into something that both hurt and comforted at once.

She shook her head as if to clear it. Ethan stood quickly, recovering his usual tone.

"Get dressed. In an hour we’re having a video call with my mother. She’s doing better after the treatment and wants to see us."

Amber nodded with a sweet smile, though her cheeks still burned from that word left hanging between them.



An hour later, they were seated in front of a large tablet in the hotel lounge. The sea view reflected on the glass of the device as the screen lit up, and Elena’s face appeared.

Amber covered her mouth with both hands.  
Ethan froze.

The woman looking at them from Germany was no longer the imposing matriarch they knew. A blue turban covered her bald head, her skin looked pale—almost translucent—and a thin oxygen tube ran from her nose down to her chest. Yet her smile was warm, dignified.

"My children," she said in a frail voice, but brimming with tenderness. "What joy to see you."

Ethan swallowed with difficulty.  
"Mom… you look so much better. I miss you."

She gave a soft laugh.  
"Don’t lie to me, Ethan. I look like an onion in this turban, but thank you."

Amber couldn’t hold back an emotional smile.  
"Mrs. Elena… I’m so glad to see you."

"Call me Mom, dear," she replied gently. "It makes me feel alive."

Elena’s voice trembled. She told them the last few days had been hard, that the treatments left her weak and nauseated, that the pain was constant, but she was trying to stay strong. Ethan lowered his gaze, fists clenched on his knees.

Elena noticed.  
"Don’t make that face, son. I don’t want you to remember me like this. I’m alive—that’s enough, isn’t it?"

Ethan nodded, but a treacherous tear escaped. Without thinking, Amber took his hand.  
He didn’t pull away.

Elena watched the gesture with tenderness.  
"I’m so glad to see you together. And happy. You can tell you love each other."

The words landed like a soft but precise blow. Ethan straightened abruptly, releasing Amber’s hand.

"No, Mom. Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m only doing what you asked—what you wanted as your last wish."

Elena smiled wearily.  
"Of course, son. If that makes you feel better, believe it. But let me dream, at least."

Amber lowered her gaze, her chest tight.  
Ethan said nothing, simply staring at the screen—at his mother’s face fighting not to fade.

Suddenly Elena drew a deep breath, as if gathering courage for something important.

"The only thing that would truly make me happy before I die would be to have a grandchild."

"Don’t say that, Mom. You’re not going to die," Ethan replied at once, his voice breaking. "The treatment is going to work."

"I hope so," she said, smiling sadly. "But sometimes it’s hard to hold on to hope. When I had Amber’s little siblings with me, I felt I had to fight. Now… I feel alone, Ethan. I want to come home soon."

He clenched his jaw, swallowing rage and pain.  
"Mom, I promise you’ll be home soon. Rest, please."

"I’ll only rest," she murmured, closing her eyes for a second, "when I know my son has found something more than power and money. A family, Ethan Rhodes. One that takes care of you, and someone you can take care of—that would make me so happy."

Amber and Ethan exchanged a silent glance. There was nothing to say.

The conversation went on for a few more minutes until Elena, exhausted, smiled again.

"By the way, Ethan, I noticed some strange money movements in the company. Who’s in charge while you’re on vacation?"

He blinked, confused.  
"I left my advisors in charge. Everything should be in order—I made sure of it before coming here, and no funds can move without my authorization. I don’t understand, Mom—what do you mean?"

"Maybe, darling—I know exactly how you run things… but I noticed a large transfer. My head hurts too much to look into it, but could you check for me?"

Ethan tensed immediately.  
"Don’t worry, Mom. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it—don’t trouble yourself with unnecessary things."

Elena looked at him with affection and weariness.  
"I trust you, son."

The image froze for a few seconds, then vanished.

Ethan remained silent, staring at the black screen. Amber watched him with concern.

"Are you okay?"

He didn’t answer. He picked up his phone and dialed.

"Clarisa," he said when his assistant’s voice answered, "is everything all right at the company?"

"Yes, Mr. Rhodes. Everything is under control. No unusual movements—just as you left it."

"Are you sure?"

"Completely, sir. Trust me."

Ethan frowned. Unease stabbed through his chest. He hung up and stared out at the horizon through the window.

Amber watched him for a moment before speaking.

"If you want, we can go back today."

He turned to her, that familiar mix of rigidity and determination on his face.

"When I make a promise, I keep it. I promised my mother I’d relax, and I promised you I’d take you shopping."

Amber started to protest, but he cut her off with a forced smile.

"Mom must be confused. Sometimes the treatment clouds her perception."

"And if she’s not confused, Ethan?" she asked softly.

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes dark as a storm held in check.

"Then," he said at last, voice low, "when we get back, I’ll find out what’s going on. For now, we’re going to get that coral blouse you want so badly."

Amber smiled and nodded. She grabbed her purse, and within minutes they were crossing the doors toward the island’s shopping district.