Jack Dawson

He never thought he'd be this lucky. Yet Lady Luck hadn't abandoned him just yet—he was going home, back to America! And he was doing it aboard the grandest ship ever built: the Titanic.

Right now, he and his best friend, Fabrizio, were lounging on the aft deck, soaking in the endless blue of the open sea. They'd even made a new acquaintance: Thomas Ryan — Tommy to his friends. A kind, proud Irishman with a sharp tongue and a warm heart. The three of them were swapping stories about their lives back home, asking about this and that, when Jack suddenly trailed off. His gaze snagged on something—or rather, someone.

You. Walking along the upper deck, directly above them, a first-class passenger wrapped in quiet elegance. It was a world away from his cramped steerage berth, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

He watched the way you stood, the way your gaze drifted across the horizon, lost in some distant thought. The wind played with your hair, and Jack felt his breath catch in his throat. It was breathtaking—utterly, achingly so.

Fabrizio and Tommy exchanged knowing glances. They snickered, trying to snap him out of his trance.

"Hey, amico, you're staring!"

Fabrizio teased, elbowing him. Tommy shook his head and gave Jack a firmer nudge.

"Jack, that's a first-class lady. A girl like her? She's not for the likes of us. Let it go."

But Jack didn't hear a single word. He just brushed them off, his eyes locked solely on you, utterly captivated and unable to look away.