Chapter 15
ILIAS
Papaoutai - Stromae
Driving from Agadir to Imsouane gave Ilias too much time to think, mostly about the future of Azul.
His father had included a clause in the will stating that the surf school must always prioritize the local community over profit.
According to the lawyer, it was José Antonio’s way of protecting Imsouane from overtourism and giving back to the village that welcomed him with open arms more than thirty-three years before.
He’d written the will the year he founded Azul and never changed a word in twenty years.
And yes, Azul had raised him and Amira too. They’d learned to surf there, built their childhoods around it, shaped their lives through it. Azul had given him everything he loved about who he was.
And yet, it had also destroyed their family.
His father’s obsession with the school had slowly erased anything that wasn’t Azul. First his mother. Then him and his sister. And then the final blow—discovering he’d been lying to all of them.
Imsouane was his mother’s home, the quiet fishing village where she’d met his father.
It held Africa’s longest right-hand wave, The Bay, perfect for longboarders like Sofia, and the heavier Cathedral, always Ilias’ favorite when the conditions cooperated.
Mid-March swells weren’t guaranteed though, not that he was here to surf anyway.
He’d actually been enjoying his forced break in Ericeira with Sofia, another reason this sudden trip to Morocco felt irritatingly timed.
After the break in with the surf boards, Ghita needed help with rebuilding the stock and he had decided to fly down to Morocco for a couple of days to help her out.
When he pulled up outside Azul, the office right in front of the beach, Ghita burst through the door like she’d been waiting all morning.
“Hello, boss,” she said, squeezing him tight.
“How are you? How’s Azul? Any new kids signed up?” he asked, stepping inside.
The office looked like every surf school he’d ever seen. Functional, bland, lacking any sort of personality. He immediately thought of Salacia office’s warm, intentional aesthetic. Sofia made every detail matter. Maybe she could help here as well.
“I’m good. Azul is… doing okay. And no, no new kids.”
“Fantastic,” he muttered, sinking into the desk chair. Ghita hopped up on the edge of the desk.
“Have you thought about what I sent you?” she asked hopefully.
“Yeah. It’s a solid idea. I’m just not sure we can pull it off with that clause in the will.”
She pointed toward the countdown taped to the wall: 5 months, 5 days. The time left until the two-year restriction expired. Only then could he and Amira take full control.
“We could make it work,” Ghita insisted. “We could actually grow Azul. Use your and Amira’s names, build a legit surf retreat. Uncle never monetized your fame, but we can. Responsibly.”
“Sure. Maybe. But—” Ilias slouched, rubbing his temples.
“Look, an international surf camp sounds great, but I don’t want Imsouane turning into Taghazout more than it already has.
Teaching kids is what Papá wanted. And I love that.
Azul gave so much to the community, to us.
But we’ve basically been running a charity for two years…
and honestly he probably did the same for the twenty before it.
I just don’t want to keep pouring money into something that belonged to someone who—”
He stopped. Ghita’s face softened. She’d always loved his father, even after learning the truth. While he—no matter how many therapy sessions he did—still thought that his father could have done things way better than he did.
“Ilias… It won’t become Taghazout,” she said gently.
“There’s a sustainable way to do this.” She brightened suddenly.
“I looked at your girlfriend’s business.
Sofia’s not doing mass tours. Ten people max.
Four days a week. Slow and intentional. We could do the same.
Curated retreats, quality over quantity. ”
“You’ve been stalking my girlfriend?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.
The word girlfriend still felt new in his mouth.
“Anyway, you know Amira and I aren’t settling here forever.
Spain, Morocco, Australia… We've been nomads our whole lives. I don’t want to feel trapped here because of a business.
The past two years have already been painfully hard to deal with. ”
“I know,” Ghita said, guilt flickering over her features. She always felt bad bringing up long-term plans. But she rallied. “And yes, of course I stalked Sofia. She’s practically family now. And she seems cool. I’d love to meet her. She’d love the Bay.”
Ilias continued with business. He knew Ghita well enough.
She was bringing up Sofia because she was trying to brighten up his very pissed mood every time he spoke about Azul and his father.
“If we turn Azul into a retreat, we’ll need accommodations, transfers, tours.
Not just a shiny new Instagram page. We’d need money, and after the punch, sponsors aren’t exactly lining up. ”
“I’m sure they’ll change their minds when they remember you’re actually a good boy.” She grinned. “Plus, I already reached out to some contacts. I’ve got people willing to help with logistics. Accommodations are tricky, but we could partner with one of the locally run hostels for retreats.”
Ilias sighed. “Fine. I’ll think about it. I’ll ask Sofia for advice. She’s honestly a genius at this. And I don’t want to bother Amira while she’s competing in Bali.”
“Does your Mama know?”
“You know she wants nothing to do with any of this. If it were up to her, Azul would’ve closed the day Papá died.”
“Where is she now?”
“Málaga. She says she likes it better there.”
She hadn’t set foot in Morocco since the funeral. Spain made her happier. That was enough.
Ghita nodded. “Still… it’d be a shame not to try doing this our way. For once.”
“I agree. I just want to be smart about it. Business-smart. And unfortunately, I’m just a surfer.”
“One who could be making bank if he didn’t punch people.” She deadpanned.
He mimicked her expression. “One who could be making bank if he didn’t have to pay for his late father’s business.” He sighed. “I’ll win Snapper Rocks. Showing up pays ten grand anyway.”
“God, I should’ve gone pro.” Ghita groaned.
“Nah. Keep surfing as a hobby. Otherwise it becomes the reason you’re living out of a suitcase.”
They fell into a comfortable silence, staring at the financial reports. Painfully low income. A proposal for a retreat. And a future he wasn’t sure he wanted, but also wasn’t sure he could walk away from.
Azul had shaped him.
Azul had broken him.
And now, he had to decide if he could rebuild it into something new.
His phone buzzed. A message from Sofia.
I’ve been invited to a conference in Biarritz next week, and I’ll have to go.
Congrats! About the new research? Tell me the dates.
Yes
April 1st
I’ll change my flight to land close to Biarritz.
I’ll be your conference chaperone
make TerraVive happy
and let you educate me ??
?? You don’t have to
But I want to! It’ll be fun
See you there, habiba ??
See you ??
Ilias set the phone down, a small smile tugging at his lips.
His thoughts drifting away from Azul and refocusing on Sofia.
Maybe this break from competition wasn’t so bad after all.
He leaned back in his chair, the ocean wind slipping through the open window, carrying that faint, familiar scent of salt and sun.
He could already picture her in Biarritz, talking about marine ecosystems with that spark in her eyes, completely unaware of how magnetic she was. He didn’t know what he expected from this fake arrangement anymore, but he’d take whatever Sofia was willing to share with him.
He replayed in his mind those moments on their surfboards a couple of days ago, when she had opened up about a small slice of her life, and he had felt like the luckiest man in the world to be the one receiving those confessions, and the guardian of them.
Sofia’s armor was slowly cracking, and he could see in her eyes that so much was spinning inside that gorgeous mind of hers.
He wanted to know more, to be the keeper of her thoughts, her dreams. It wasn’t a secret that he’d fallen head over heels for her from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, and even though at first he’d thought it was just physical, he couldn’t deny that Sofia was so much more than a show-stopping body, big doe eyes, and perfect features.
She had a mind that fascinated him, a presence that pulled him in like a tide, and he would gladly let himself drown in it if it meant discovering just a little more of who she was day by day.