Chapter 57
SOFIA
Ovunque Sarai – Irama
Ilias was right. Morocco was beautiful. As soon as they landed in Agadir, she looked out the window of the car they had rented with awe in her eyes. It was her first time in North Africa, and the colors reminded her a lot of the South of Spain.
The terracotta dunes, the white and blue buildings, the laid-back vibe of Imsouane felt both foreign and familiar.
Like a slice of Ericeira wrapped in Moroccan tradition.
From the moment she arrived, Sofia knew that whatever Ilias, Amira and Ghita were planning to build here, it was going to work.
If they could just manage to stop Thomas from interfering and building a monster right in front of the ocean and destroying that little fisherman village.
With Ilias, they had agreed that before diving into business research and talking to other local owners, they needed a surf session.
The swell was ideal for longboarding at The Bay, and since Azul was a surf school right in front of the beach, boards were plentiful, but not quite what she'd expected.
“You really need an upgrade.” Sofia grimaced, running her hand over a foam board that looked like it had been in a bar brawl with a reef.
“I told him,” Ghita deadpanned, arms crossed.
They had hit it off instantly. Ghita, in her early twenties, was a whirlwind of life and vision. She had big dreams for Azul, and Sofia had no doubt she’d pull it off. Something about her reminded her of a blend of herself and Alejandra at that age.
“Do you know how much new boards cost?” Ilias groaned, rubbing his eyes as he inspected a shortboard that looked passable at best. “And we just got out of debt.”
“Maybe Salacia could help,” Sofia offered.
“You just sent back 200k, habiba. You're doing great, but not that great.”
Crossing her arms, she shot him a deadly stare. “I meant more as a collaboration. We could offer boat tours from Salacia when the retreat launches. Like branching out from just Ericeira. We just need… a boat.”
“Uncle had one,” Ghita chimed in, excited. “But it’s in rough shape.”
“I could take a look at it.”
“You know how to fix boats?” Ilias raised an eyebrow—half amused, half impressed.
“I don’t like how skeptical that sounded. The real question is: why don’t you know how to fix one?”
Ilias shrugged. “I’m a surfer, not a mechanic.”
Sofia gave him a look. “Anyway, what I’m saying is—I want to help. I want to help turn Azul into everything you dream of, Ghita.”
“I love her,” Ghita squealed, pulling her into a hug and giving Ilias a pointed look. “If you don’t marry him, please marry me.”
Sofia smirked. “We don’t even know if we’ll ever get married.”
“Why?” Ilias asked, his hazel eyes locking onto hers.
“Is that something you want?” she countered, volleying the question right back.
“Is it something you want?” he asked again, narrowing his eyes at her playfully.
A smile curled at her lips. “I mean, why not? But not in a traditional way. Maybe a beach ceremony. Somewhere chill. Don’t really care where.
I never envisioned myself in a white dress…
” And her traitorous mind went to her father, to that last conversation before he died.
As Ilias had been sensing it, he countered with a playful smile, “I vote for married on a surfboard, in the middle of the ocean.”
“That sounds complicated,” she chuckled, swatting away the cloud of grief.
“Just a suggestion.”
They smirked at each other. Having Ilias in her life—especially now—made everything feel softer. Stronger. Even when she was falling apart, he held the pieces. For that, she will be forever grateful.
After careful inspection, she chose the least-beaten-up longboard, and Ilias took one of the shortboards. Ghita joined them for a while, before spotting a group of friends and paddling off with them.
From the water, Imsouane was breathtaking.
The cliffs rose in warm hues of rust and sand, Imsouane overlooking the Atlantic from that privileged position.
Bougainvillea spilled from balconies, and the call to prayer echoed gently over the hills.
The ocean was a flat sheet of sapphire, interrupted only by the slow, rolling lines of incoming waves.
It was peaceful. And yet—grief lingered.
In the way the waves lapped at her board, in the way the breeze whispered through her hair.
Her father was everywhere. In the sea. In the light.
While she paddled, catching the next wave, her body focused entirely on balance, rhythm, speed.
The wave wasn’t too aggressive, just the right mix of energy and softness.
Perfect for her. She let it carry her, let it remind her of surfing in Conil with her father, or road trips to Portugal’s colder, sharper waters.
So many memories were soaked into the salt and water, into those movements that had become second nature.
When she fell back on her board, paddling toward the lineup, Ilias was there, having just ridden his own wave. He caught up with her, and they waited in the not-too-crowded line-up, the quiet between waves stretching like a lullaby.
“Do you think Thomas suspects you’re helping the nerd trio?” Ilias asked, eyes scanning the horizon.
“I don’t think he’ll see it coming,” Sofia admitted. “He’s too arrogant. Paola says he thinks he can buy or bulldoze his way through anything. Even if he gets exposed, he’ll probably call Daddy for backup.”
“Do you think we’ll ever win?” His voice dipped low. “That Azul will actually become what Ghita dreams it could be and I’ll leave my father’s legacy in the past?”
“I think it will,” she said without hesitation. “I’m sure about it. Because if justice is right, Thomas will go to jail or he will be stopped.”
Ilias nodded. “I hope so.”
Sofia studied him, with the golden light bathing his features making his tawny skin glow even more. He smirked, pulling her board closer by the leash. “I love you so much, Sofia. I hope you never stop believing me when I say it.”
Her hand came up to caress his stubbled cheek, warm from the sun and salt. “How could I?” she whispered. “You’ve shown me what love means.”