The July sea breeze carried a sharp, salty sting as it lashed across Lakshmi’s face. Her crumpled raincoat couldn’t shield her trembling shoulders or her vacant, tear-reddened eyes. On her head, a crooked white mourning scarf fluttered in the grey rain. Once again, she had returned to the beach—where her footprints had marked the wet sand every day for over half a month, ever since Raj, her husband, never came back from his last fishing trip.

That night had been pitch black. The sea raged wildly. The storm warning had come late, after the sky had already turned ominous. No one expected it to shift direction so suddenly. What was supposed to be a routine outing for the group of fishermen from the coastal village became a voyage with no return. Six men had gone out. Five bodies were found.

Raj, her husband, was the only one still missing—swallowed by the vast, mysterious sea.

Lakshmi sat down on the wet sand, her tears mixing with the rain, dripping onto the blurred wedding photo in her hand. It was a picture from their wedding day. Raj was smiling brightly then, his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She clutched the photo to her chest and cried out into the emptiness:

— “Raj! Come back to me! I don’t care if we live simply—I just want you back. Don’t scare me like this… Please, I don’t know what to do without you…”

Her cry pierced the wind, cutting through the hearts of all who heard it. In the fishing village, everyone knew Lakshmi—the woman who walked to the shore every day, sobbing until her voice was hoarse, waiting until the last soul had left the beach before quietly going home alone.

And today, just like every day, Lakshmi returned to the shore.

But unlike before, the final search boats had returned. The sun was setting in the west, casting a sorrowful red hue over the water. Lakshmi stood silently on the sand, her eyes scanning the weary faces of the fishermen as they docked—watching for one face in particular.

He wasn’t there. Raj was still not among them.

Even the seasoned seamen, hardened by years of sea storms, could not hide their sorrow and helplessness as they looked at her. They had searched tirelessly for days—diving in every suspected area, battling fatigue and fear—but the sea had chosen to keep Raj, deep in its boundless depths.

A few of Raj’s closest companions quietly approached Lakshmi, offering words of condolence, their voices heavy with emotion. They spoke of the storm’s fury, of the monstrous waves that tore the small boat apart. They said Raj had fought to the very end.

But their words, no matter how kind, could not soothe the pain tearing through her heart.

Lakshmi sank back onto the cold sand. Her tears had long dried. The wedding photo, now smudged and faded, remained clenched in her weathered hands. The sea wind still blew, but now it carried a deep, aching chill. She no longer screamed. Silence had replaced her despair—silent and heavy, like the ocean itself.

An elderly neighbor came and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s time, dear… it’s time.”

Lakshmi slowly rose to her feet. Her legs felt numb. Without a word, she turned her back to the ocean and began walking aimlessly down the long stretch of beach. The white mourning scarf on her head fluttered behind her, like a final farewell to the man the sea had taken.

From that day forward, every time the wind howled and the tides swelled, her pain would return—fresh as ever. The waves would forever echo with her unanswered cry:

“Raj… please come back…”

In the now-quiet home where Raj once laughed and cooked and talked, Lakshmi would live out the rest of her days with memories of a gentle husband, a love left unfinished, and a loss no words could heal.

The sea of Kanyakumari would remain as blue and beautiful as ever.

But for her…
It had turned forever grey.