At the Mangalore estuary evening, I tread barefoot on sharp boulders and sand, watching tides push and pull like memories. Dogs tumble, fishermen observe, and the sun carves its way toward the horizon. Just an hour, yet the estuary holds me — smoke in hand, sea salt in the air, Zoe at my side. Unfiltered, deep, fleeting — a moment worth lingering for, pulled back like the currents themselves.