LATER THAT NIGHT

    "What is all this?" Jack asks as he sits down on the blanket I've laid out on the beach. It's around midnight and the stars are out, so I grabbed bottles of L&P, got a blanket from home, a couple of snacks and invited him out to the beach.

"Well, it's a stargazing picnic... thing," I announce. "Got some snacks, got the blanket. Like we did months ago?"

He smiles and sips his drink. "Why?"

I sit down beside him, knees up to my chest, eyes up at the stars above. Henry's here. I can still feel him. But this time, he's not lingering and all-encompassing. He's just here, to watch, to be.

It's comforting now.

"I was sitting here, talking to him and he said to me the old whakataukī," I repeat the phrase to him.

Jack nods. "May the calm be widespread; may the surface of the ocean glisten like the greenstone; and may the shimmer of summer dance across your path forever."

"It made me realise that he is okay with me letting go, and so am I. Grief ebbs and flows, and it'll stay with me forever, but I'm also a little thankful for it."

"How come?"

"It sounds dark, but the grief forced me back home. I knew I was gonna come back with Henry, but after he died, I wasn't going to come home. England felt too claustrophobic because my time there was Henry. It was that all-encompassing grief that got me on the plane and brought me home."

Jack smiles and grabs my hand. "That doesn't sound dark at all."

"They say home is where the heart is, and for five years, Henry was my home. When he left, I realised my heart was also here, home. The grief brought me here and Henry is wherever I am. I suppose like you with Maia, grieving is a long path, but one that becomes less with time. Grief isn't a noun, it's a verb, and it's forever moving – like the rivers or oceans. Just because I'm no longer crying doesn't mean I'm not missing him. Just because I move forward and open my heart doesn't mean I don't miss him anymore."

We both exchange a knowing glance, but the silence between us is loud. The gentle laps of the ocean, the small chatter from the road opposite us, a car driving past the beach – it all becomes louder and more noticeable in this moment. Yet nothing feels more monumental than the unsaid is right now. Despite the noise on the outside, all I can feel is the heartbeat in my body, the way he and I breathe in tandem, and the knowing look between us.

"What're you saying, Anahera?"

I give him that one; my full name suddenly sounds like the most beautiful thing on the earth. My legs stretch out in front of me, feeling the cool sand on my feet. One thing I noticed in the move between countries is here, no matter the weather, I always wear sandals if I'm casually walking around or going to the beach – unless it's pelting down with rain or snow – whereas, in England, it's too unpredictable for that. Sand somehow always makes me feel like I'm at peace, back to my natural state.

Maybe I was a beach in a previous life. Or a turtle. Something like that.

I take a breath. "Iti noa ana he pito mata."

"From the withered tree, a flower blooms," Jack translates.

Nodding, I smile at him. "My koroua told me about it all the time growing up, but he meant it literally, and sometimes metaphorically. I was sitting here earlier and realised that my withered tree has been my grief, and I've been waiting for the flower to bloom, but it's been sitting here all along."

He meets my gaze and smiles. "What is it then?"

A flush washes through me, surely tingeing my skin pink. In the dark of night, it won't show, luckily. "Let's not pretend we haven't loved each other for a while."

"It's been obvious," he agrees.

"Our lives have just been too full of grief – the withered tree. If I'm going down the analogy route Korouaused to go down, then I guess we've just been trying to prune the withered tree so the flower can grow, right?"

Jack laughs. "That was surprisingly beautiful." With nothing more, he kicks his shoes off and stands on the sand, putting a hand out to me. "Come 'ere."

Taking his hand, I stand up and stand in front of him. There's a tiny whisper of space between us. The heat from his body is warming me up as his hands fall to my waist.

"Dance with me, ãtaahua Ana," he whispers.

My hands wrap around his neck and within seconds, we've matched a slow rhythm. The ocean sounds are the music as we sway together, eyes never leaving each other.

"I realised I loved you the night we did the stargazing," Jack whispers. "But the grief was too much at that time."

"It's taken me a while to see it, but that's when I realised, too. I just needed to be able to let go and realise that letting go isn't always a bad thing. Henry and I had a beautiful life together, but life didn't let us have forever. It's sad, but fate had other plans for us both. I'm thankful for what I had with him, but I have to allow life to throw its plans my way."

"Grief is a forever-changing path, and we all take our time on it. Hopefully, it's easier to walk down now. Maybe we can try and walk down it together."

"What're you saying?"

He smiles, leaning forward ever so slightly. Our noses are barely touching, but I can feel him. My heart speeds up, pulse threading in my body. I haven't had a moment like this since Henry was alive; I never thought it would happen with anyone again. I didn't want this again because Henry was my one. But this moment feels monumental and something that should be treasured. It's a pearl that I have to treasure forever.

I want this, right now, more than anything. The moment earlier gave me that clarification.

"I'm in love with you, Ana," Jack whispers. "If you'll allow me, that is."

A faint giggle comes out of my mouth as I nod. "I will, if you'll allow me, because I'm in love with you."

His answer is to magnetise our lips together. His lips taste like fizzy lemons and the sea air. There's a faint smell of his ocean aftershave mixed with mint in the air, reaching my nose and making me subconsciously inhale it. His hands lightly squeeze my waist, forcing me to flush against him even more. My arms pull him closer, and within a moment, our mouths are open so I can taste his kiss even more.

This moment feels like clarity mixed with relief. For a second, I thought Henry would unleash an angry tsunami from the sea where he is, but there's nothing but acceptance. A peace as the beach stays calm and cool and still feels like home. If anything, this feels like a piece of me has been returned. Though love has never been missing from my life since Henry died – it's been him that's been missing – somehow, the flower that has bloomed from the tree is Jack and his love. It's because we've helped each other heal from our relative grief.

As Jack breaks the kiss with a smile and a small kiss on my forehead, I find myself giggling.

"The flower has just been waiting for the sun to beat down on it, right? It's finally bloomed."

He nods in agreement. "We've been waiting for each other to be ready. The rainbow comes after the storm, right? Same proverb, different saying."