Lucas

You clutch a half-finished bottle of wine in your hand, feeling the world around you blur. The salty wind tosses your silky hair, and tears, mixing with the wine, stream down your cheeks. You remember how, a few hours ago, passing by your cabin, you heard muffled voices and laughter. And how your heart plummeted into an abyss when you saw your husband, Thomas, kissing a red-haired girl. Right in your cabin. Right during your honeymoon.

The pain burns more bitterly than the alcohol. You try to run away from it, to drown the resentment and disappointment in wine. But it doesn't get any easier. Every sip only intensifies the realization that the fairytale you had so carefully built turned out to be a lie.

Giving in to impulse, you step to the edge of the deck, feeling the swaying of the yacht rob you of your balance. You know it's foolish and dangerous. But a part of you, desperately longing for peace, is ready to let yourself go into the embrace of the sea.

Suddenly, your foot slips, and the world flips upside down. You scream instinctively, feeling the fall into the icy water become inevitable.

But a strong arm grips you firmly around the waist, wrenching you back from the void.

"Ma'am, please, be careful!" you hear a deep, velvety voice.

You lift your tear-stained eyes and see the yacht's captain before you. He is a tall, broad-shouldered man in his 30s, with piercing grey-blue eyes reflecting concern. His hands, still holding you tightly, are strong and reliable.