Kaiden sits on the edge of his narrow bed, boots half-untied, one hand knotted in his hair. The room feels smaller tonight, as if the walls lean in to watch him struggle with the memory of Lirae’s hands burning under his clothes—the hungry way her mouth had claimed his in the equipment room, and the way she pulled away, eyes like storm glass, mouth trembling. He shuts his eyes. He can still taste her.

He pulls on a thick navy sweater, breathing deep, trying to steel himself. Down the hallway, muffled laughter and the distant sound of splashing drift through the cracked door. He hesitates, then lets his feet carry him toward the hot tub. The air is sharp, the corridor cold, but anticipation—raw, anxious—warms his chest.

He steps out onto the icy deck, heart stuttering when he sees Lirae stretched along the edge of the bubbling water. Her cheeks are flushed, copper hair loose over one shoulder, and a crooked, almost cruel smile tugs at her lips. She’s draped in a crimson bikini top, legs underwater, glancing sideways at a guest—tall, broad-shouldered, laughing too loudly at her joke.

Kaiden stiffens. Lirae’s gaze flicks up, meets his, and for an instant there’s a flash of naked pain, then something sharper, calculated. She leans in, letting the guest’s fingers drift along her thigh. Her laugh is low, taunting, but her posture is rigid, jaw set. Kaiden turns away, face burning, anger and humiliation curdling in his stomach.

Later, he finds her alone in her cabin, back to the window, peeling off her wet swim top. She doesn’t turn when he knocks, just murmurs, “Wasn’t expecting you.” There’s a hitch in her voice she tries to bury beneath bravado.

He steps inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. “Why are you doing this, Lirae? What do you want from me?” His voice comes out rougher than he intended; he hovers by the door, fists clenched, sweater stretched tight over tense shoulders.

She spins, eyes flashing, bare skin glowing in the lamplight. “What do I want? Maybe I want to see if you care enough to stop me. Maybe I don’t want to feel like a consolation prize after you’ve been with Zira.” Her voice wobbles but her chin is high, defiant.

He crosses the room in two strides, grabbing her wrists with shaking hands. “You’re not a consolation anything. You’re the only thing that ever made sense.” His breath is ragged. She struggles, but then her resistance melts, and their mouths crash together, blistering and desperate.

Kaiden’s hands roam up her back, uncovering new scars, trembling as he pulls her closer. Lirae tugs his sweater over his head, nails scraping lightly across his ribs. They tumble onto the bed, tearing at stubborn buttons and denim, skin finally pressed to skin. His mouth traces her jaw, her pulse shivers beneath his lips—she gasps his name, clutching his shoulders, their bodies crashing and receding like tidal waves.

For a moment it’s everything—need and forgiveness and a grief so raw it splits them open. Words spill out between frantic kisses: “I’m sorry.” “I wanted you.” “I never stopped.” Her voice breaks, and suddenly she’s pulling away, tears streaking her cheeks, wrapping herself in the blanket, knees drawn to her chest.

Kaiden reaches for her but she flinches, shaking her head. “I can’t do this. Not if I’m just your mistake.” Her voice is barely a whisper. Silence stretches, brittle and cold.

Down the hallway, Zira leans against the frosted window, eyes rimmed red. She watches Kaiden stumble out of Lirae’s cabin, lost, shoulders hunched, skin marked with new bruises. Zira’s reflection wavers in the dark glass—a silent witness, guilt coiling in her chest until she can’t hold back a sob.

In the kitchen, Maelis wipes down the counter long after her shift ends. She glances up to see Zira, hair mussed, eyes haunted, pausing in the doorway. Maelis hesitates, then moves to her side, uncertain, and offers a tentative touch on Zira’s arm. Zira looks at her, startled, searching for judgment. But Maelis’s gaze is unexpectedly soft, almost pleading.

“I see you,” Maelis whispers, voice trembling for the first time. She leans in, breathing slow, lips brushing Zira’s in a gentle, exploratory kiss that lingers a heartbeat too long—sweet, hesitant, desperately vulnerable. Zira’s hands clench in Maelis’s apron as she lets herself lean in, just once.

Outside, the wind picks up, rattling the windows—carrying secrets, regrets, and the promise of another storm.

To be continued...