My boyfriend was the captain conquering the open seas, and my best friend was his indispensable logistical officer. Back at the harbor, everyone called them the Gemini of the Pacific. Meanwhile, I was the one left on the shore, a ghost anchor tied to the land, waiting. I used to beg Baron to tell me about his voyages. I just wanted a piece of his world, to know he was safe under those massive, foreign skies. But Baron would always look at me with that cool, detached expression. “It’s just water, Maeve. Endless, boring water. There’s nothing to tell.” Then Talia went on leave, and I picked up her phone to move it from the kitchen counter. I saw his messages. “We found the pink dolphins today. I wish you were here to see them.” “Look at this. A sunset meant only for the ocean.” “The swells were massive just now. For a second, I thought the ship was going down.” I closed my eyes, the memory fading as I reached into my drawer and tossed the custom engagement ring I’d spent months designing straight into the trash can. I was done asking. I would never ask again. … I sat at the living room table, the draft of my resignation letter glowing on the laptop screen. The front door opened. Baron’s keys hit the console table with a sharp, heavy clatter. Without looking at me, he walked straight into the kitchen. “Why didn’t you come to the pier today? I waited for you for two hours.” He leaned against the doorframe, his brow furrowed. “No dinner either? What’s going on with you today?” My fingers hovered over the keyboard. In the past, every time his ship docked, I would wake up at dawn to prep ingredients, simmering stews and roasting meats, before standing at the windy pier two hours early just to catch the first glimpse of him. Today, I hadn’t prepped a single thing. I hadn’t gone to the pier. “It was raining,” I said quietly, my voice level. “I left my umbrella at the office.” Baron sat beside me, his eyes catching the screen. He let out a long, weary sigh. “You’re quitting another job?” “Why can’t you be more like Talia? She’s been on the crew for eight years. She’s braved worst-case storms and never once complained about wanting to leave.” He reached out and closed my laptop, his tone sliding into that familiar, patronizing rhythm. “You need to grow up, Maeve. Learn to be a little more grounded.” I kept my gaze fixed on the dark, reflective screen. This job wasn’t my choice. Baron had picked it out for me, claiming it was stable with good long-term prospects. But since starting, I’d been working until midnight every single day without a dime of overtime pay. Before I could speak, Baron’s phone vibrated on the table. He swiped it, accidentally hitting the speakerphone. Talia’s bright, familiar laugh filled the room. “Hey, Captain! Crew dinner tonight. You’re the guest of honor, so don’t you dare flake on us.” The hard lines of Baron’s face instantly softened. A faint, easy smile touched his lips. “I’ll be there. Give me twenty minutes.” He hung up and grabbed his coat. Just as he reached the door, he paused. “Hey, where are those cartoon band-aids you bought?” I looked at him, confused. “Talia scraped her hand on some kid’s kite string when she was getting off the boat,” he explained, already rummaging through the hallway drawer. “She’s been whining about it all afternoon. You know how she is—total kid at heart. She loves that cartoon stuff.” I watched him sift through the drawers. My mind flashed back to two days ago, when I had texted him a picture of my finger, sliced deep from prepping vegetables. “Baron, my hand is bleeding so badly. It hurts.” Hours later, his reply had come: “Just put a band-aid on it. Don’t be dramatic.” I had gone out, bought those silly cartoon band-aids to cheer myself up, and texted him a photo. He had never replied. Baron finally pulled the box of band-aids from the drawer, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Do you know when the last time you replied to one of my texts was?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. His hand froze on the doorknob. An edge of impatience crept into his voice. “Maeve, I don’t have time for trivial messages when I’m at sea. Every second requires my absolute focus.” The heavy oak door slammed shut behind him. My phone buzzed with an emergency alert: severe thunderstorm and high wind warnings for the night. I looked at the umbrella he had left behind in the stand. I didn’t move to bring it to him. Instead, I opened my phone. Two new notifications from Talia’s social media popped up. The first was from two hours ago: “Sunset with the Captain. Sometimes, the view from land isn’t so bad either.” The second was fresh, posted just minutes ago: “It’s the little things. Knowing someone always has you covered.” Attached was a picture of the cartoon band-aids I had bought. I closed the app, took Baron’s umbrella, and slid it neatly back into the bin. He didn’t hate drama or trivialities. He just didn’t want to waste his patience on me anymore. I hit submit on my resignation letter. My manager replied almost instantly: “Since you’re still in your six-month probation, we can fast-track this. You’re cleared to leave in three days.” Three days. More than enough time to walk away from Baron. I took a day off to pack my things. The three-thousand-square-foot house was vast, and over eight years, I had accumulated far too much of myself here. When the doorbell rang, I assumed it was the moving company. Instead, Talia stood on the porch, a brilliant smile on her face. “Baron’s still wrapping up his reports at the harbor. He told me to come on in. He’s buying groceries and cooking dinner for us tonight.” My fingers tightened on the edge of the door. “Cooking.” A concept entirely foreign to Baron. He was a severe germophobe; the slightest hint of grease on his hands would send him rushing to wash them ten times over. In our eight years together, he had never once touched a frying pan. A few minutes later, Baron arrived, carrying a grocery bag with a fresh, flopping fish inside. He walked straight past me into the kitchen. I leaned against the kitchen island, watching him. “I thought you hated cooking.” Baron sighed, though there was a soft, indulgent chuckle in his throat. “I lost a bet to Talia on the last run. She wanted a home-cooked meal. A man’s got to keep his word.” The sheer tenderness in his tone was a physical blow. I went back to the living room and continued tape-sealing my boxes. Talia skipped into the kitchen, her voice carrying over the open floor plan. “Baron, your doorbell is so stubborn. I had to press it forever.” Baron stopped what he was doing. “Maeve didn’t let you in right away?” “Oh, no, it’s not that,” Talia said quickly, her voice dropping into a pout. “I think the button is just broken. It’s hard to get it to register.” “Maeve!” Baron called out, his voice sharp with irritation. “Talia is your best friend. Why are you making her wait outside?” He wiped his hands on his apron and pulled Talia toward the smart lock on the front door. “Here, let’s just register your fingerprint. It’ll make things easier for you to come and go.” Talia tilted her head, acting coy. “But this is your place. Won’t it be weird if I just walk in?” “There’s nothing weird about it,” Baron said firmly, pressing her index finger onto the scanner. A sudden, acrid smell drifted from the kitchen. The fish was burning. “Shit,” Baron muttered, running back to the stove. “Maeve, help Talia finish setting up.” As I stepped up to the panel, Talia let out a small, dramatic gasp, covering her mouth. “Oh my god, Maeve, I’m so sorry! I think I hit the wrong button and deleted your fingerprint profile. Can you re-register yours?” Her eyes welled with instant, rehearsed tears. Baron poked his head out of the kitchen. “Don’t worry about Maeve right now. Dinner’s ready.” He began setting the dishes on the dining table, waving Talia over. I looked at the spread: two platters of garlic butter shrimp and crab, and a side of chilled cucumber salad. I walked back to the sofa. Baron’s face darkened, his voice laced with annoyance. “I stand over a hot stove for hours, and you won’t even sit at the table? Who are you throwing this attitude for?” I looked him dead in the eye. “There are three dishes on that table. Two are seafood, and one is cucumber. I am severely allergic to both, Baron. Did you forget?” He froze. The silence stretched. He had forgotten. Or rather, he had only remembered what Talia liked to eat. Baron averted his eyes, brushing it off. “Well, just boil some instant noodles then. Talia and I are going to eat before it gets cold.” After dinner, Baron drove Talia home. By the time he returned, I was taping up my final cardboard box. He stared at the boxes, his jaw tight. “What kind of game is this, Maeve?” “Is this still about the job? Because I gave Talia a little credit for her work ethic, you’re going to act like this in front of her? She’s supposed to be your best friend.” He let out a harsh breath. “You seriously need to work on your insecurity. Look at Talia—she’s easygoing. She doesn’t hold grudges over nothing.” He stepped closer. “Come here. Let’s put your fingerprint back in the lock.” I shook my head. “Don’t bother.” His eyes went cold. “Are you really going to be this petty? It was an accident. Talia didn’t mean to delete it.” The last of my energy drained away. “I want a break. We’re done, Baron.” He let out a dry, mocking laugh. “Don’t use that to threaten me.” “I came back from a long haul, and what did I get? No welcome, no dinner, just cold shoulders and silent treatment.” He grew angrier, his frustration boiling over until he slammed his boot against the wooden coat rack near the door. “I have an incredibly stressful job, Maeve! Can you, for once in your life, show some damn empathy?” The coat rack crashed to the hardwood floor with a deafening thud. In the ringing silence that followed, I looked at him. “The day you got back… when you were watching the sunset on the pier with Talia… were you hoping I’d show up, or praying that I wouldn’t?” “You are completely out of your mind!” Baron spat, slamming the front door as he stormed out. He didn’t return that night. I took a black marker and quietly crossed out another day on the kitchen calendar. Two days left. The next morning, I packed up my rabbit’s hutch and drove to my friend’s place. She looked at me with deep concern. “Are you really sure about this, Maeve? You’ve been with Baron for eight years. You practically built his career with him, from a third-mate crew member to a captain.” Eight years. I had given him the best years of my life. I was allergic to seafood, but I had always been enchanted by the ocean. Baron had once promised me that the day he earned his captain’s stripes, he would use his exclusive family passes to take me on his voyages, to show me the beauty of the deep blue. But in the year since his promotion, I had never once set foot on his ship. “He changed,” I said softly. “Maybe he’s just overwhelmed with the captain duties?” my friend offered gently. I tried to smile, but a tear slipped down my cheek, hot and bitter. “It’s not the work. He’s just not mine anymore.” When I got back to the house, I received a text from Hazel, a junior crew member on Baron’s ship. “Hey Maeve! We’re doing a quick day-trip for dolphin-watching tomorrow. I know how much you love dolphins. I have a spare family pass. Want to join?” Montana had no ocean. If I was leaving the coast for good, I wanted one last memory of the sea. I texted back: “I’d love to. Thank you.” Baron didn’t come home until late that night. He carried the distinct, sickly sweet scent of Talia’s pear-and-freesia perfume. He looked around the barren living room. “Why does it look like half the house is missing?” “Just spring cleaning. I threw away things I don’t need.” He grunted, already looking down at his phone as he walked into the bathroom. When he emerged, he said casually, “The ship has an unscheduled run tomorrow. Don’t wait up for lunch.” “What’s the trip for?” A small, fond smile played on his lips. “It’s Talia’s birthday. We’re going out to track the dolphins.” “I love dolphins too,” I said. Baron’s expression hardened instantly. “Are you seriously doing this? Do you have to make everything a competition with her?” “She’s worked alongside me for eight years. Is it so wrong that I want to grant her one birthday wish?” “I was only going to ask if there was an extra family pass.” Baron ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “No. There aren’t any.” He went into the bedroom and shut the door. “Go sleep in the guest room tonight. You need to clear your head.” The locked door stood between us. I agreed. He was the one who desperately needed to clear his head. The next morning, I boarded the ship, keeping to the very back of the crowd. The sea was calm. I stood on the deck, letting the salty, damp wind whip my hair, looking out at the endless blue horizon I had yearned to see for so long. “Baron, look! Oh my god, they’re right there!” Talia’s voice squealed as she clung to Baron’s arm. Baron reached out, gently stroking her hair. “Happy now?” Talia pouted playfully. “You’re the best, Captain.” I turned to walk back to the cabin, but a hand clamped firmly onto my wrist. “What the hell are you doing here?” Baron’s voice was low, dangerous. “Whose family pass did you take?” I looked at him, letting out a soft, humorless laugh. “I thought you said there weren’t any passes left.” Before he could answer, the ship lurched violently. The sudden roll knocked me off my feet, sending me crashing onto the hard deck. No one reached out to help me. Baron had already wrapped his arms around Talia, shielding her. “The swell is getting bad. It’s not safe out here. I have to get to the bridge.” He hurried off. Talia stayed behind for a moment, walking over to help me up. Her voice was sweet, dripping with venom. “I know how much you wanted to see the dolphins, Maeve. I’m the one who told Hazel to give you that pass.” I raised an eyebrow. “Should I say thank you?” Talia took a step closer to the railing, her eyes bright with a dangerous, triumphant spark. “I’ve always wondered… if both of us were in danger, who would Baron choose?” I smiled, feeling a strange sense of liberation. “I’m not playing this game with you, Talia. I don’t want him anymore.” Talia’s grip tightened on my forearm, pulling me closer to the edge. “A crisis is the only way to see a man’s true heart, Maeve.” The ship took another sharp, aggressive turn. The deck tilted violently, and before I could grab the railing, both of us were thrown over the side, falling into the frigid, churning water. “Man overboard!” a crew member screamed from above. “We have people in the water!” Baron rushed to the deck. “Who is it? Who fell?” “I think it’s Talia and—” Before the crew member could finish, Baron plunged into the icy water alongside the rescue diver. Through the bubbles and the freezing depths, I watched him. He swam past me, his arms reaching out desperately for Talia. He pulled her to his chest, holding her tight. Water flooded my lungs. The cold was heavy, dragging me down into the darkness. “She’s sinking! Someone get the other one!” I closed my eyes, letting the darkness take me. When I opened my eyes, the smell of sterile antiseptic filled my nose. Baron was sitting by the bedside, staring blankly at his phone. Seeing me stir, his expression softened into something heavy and complex. “The baby is gone, Maeve. I’m so sorry. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” “Tomorrow is our anniversary. I booked us flights to Iceland. You’ve always wanted to see the northern lights, right?” My hand hovered over my lower abdomen. I felt entirely hollow. A child I didn’t even know existed was gone. My mind drifted back to seven years ago. On our anniversary, he had told me to make a wish. I had whispered that I wanted to see the Aurora Borealis in Iceland. “We can’t afford that right now, Maeve,” he had said, kissing my forehead. “But I promise, as soon as I make more money, I’ll take you.” He made plenty of money now. He just forgot the promise. I stared at the white ceiling. “No. I don’t want to go.” Baron’s voice rose, sharp with disbelief. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to get those tickets? I spent three days fighting for them.” “I put so much thought into this anniversary, Maeve. And you’re just throwing it back in my face?” “Go with someone else,” I said quietly. “Are you seriously still blaming me for saving her first?” Baron snapped, his defense mechanisms flaring up. “Talia can’t swim. If I hadn’t grabbed her, she would have drowned.” I clenched my fists beneath the thin hospital sheet. Talia had her swimming certification on her crew file. I was the only one who actually couldn’t swim. “I don’t blame you,” I lied. “Your temper is getting out of hand,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m exhausted, Maeve. I really am.” Before he could continue, the door swung open. Talia bounced into the room, her cheeks flushed with life. “Captain! The VIP wing is so incredibly boring. Maeve’s room is much cozier.” “Oh, by the way, about that Iceland ticket… I’ve decided I want to go. Let’s go together!” I went completely still. Talia bit her lip, looking at me with mock sheepishness. “You won’t be mad, will you, Maeve?” I forced a dry smile. “Not at all. You two should go.” Baron shot Talia a warning look. “Talia, don’t say things like that in front of Maeve.” He turned to me, his tone hurried, transactional. “It’s actually a business inspection trip. The company is thinking about transitioning the ship to commercial sightseeing. I’ll take you next time. I promise.” “Okay,” I said. Baron let out a long breath, visibly relieved. “I’m glad you’re finally listening to reason. You’re being much more sensible now.” He patted my hand, then led Talia out. “Get some rest.” I lay there alone. My phone vibrated with a flight confirmation. My plane to Montana departed in twelve hours. A text from my manager: “Come by the office to sign your final papers and collect your last paycheck.” I pulled the IV needle out of my hand, ignoring the small bead of blood, and called a cab. Walking out of the office with my final paycheck, I took a deep, clean breath. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel the weight of that suffocating city on my chest. At the airport gate, I sat with my suitcase, my phone buzzing with social media alerts. Talia had posted again: “Off to chase the northern lights with the Captain! So excited!” An hour later: “Change of plans! We’re doing lavender fields in Provence instead. The Captain really can’t say no to me.” And then: “Two hours until takeoff. Ready for our private getaway.” The comments were filled with hearts and laughing emojis. “Wait, didn’t the Captain say it was a business trip to Iceland?” someone asked. Talia replied with a blushing emoji: “He’s a softie. I told him I wanted France, so he changed the tickets.” I stared at the screen, then saw a text from Baron pop up. “I’ll be back in three days. I’ll bring you a souvenir.” “Make sure you make that braised pork ribs recipe when I get back. I’ve been craving it.” The intercom announced boarding for the flight to Great Falls, Montana. I opened my settings, deactivated my accounts, and walked down the jet bridge.
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