Morning on the water was different from morning on land. There was no sudden jolt of an alarm, no harsh light slicing through the curtains. Instead, there was a gentle rocking, a rhythmic swaying that felt like being cradled. I woke up slowly, the gray light of dawn filtering through the porthole. Marcus was still asleep beside me, his breathing deep and even, one arm thrown over his eyes to block the light. The cabin was small, intimate, smelling of polished wood and the faint, persistent scent of the sea that seemed to seep into everything.
I slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him. The floor was cool under my bare feet. I pulled on a robe and went up to the deck. The air was crisp, biting at my exposed skin, but it was clean. The sky was a pale wash of lavender and orange
