Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

LATER, WE SAT in the observation room again.

The one with the windows that curved out toward the sea.

Ghost was there, sitting on the bench like he’d reserved it days ago. He looked at us, blinked slowly, then turned to stare at the glass.

We joined him.

The water looked calm. Too calm.

“It’s weird,” I said. “When I first got here, this ship felt invincible.”

“It never was,” Evelyn whispered. “None of them are.”

She rested her head on my shoulder again.

And for a second, I forgot we were floating on a secret.
I forgot the crew was cracking.
I forgot the map and the sound and the fear in her voice.

Because for that second, it was just her.

Her weight against me. Her breath. Her warmth.

And the overwhelming urge to stay here forever.

“You ever wish time could just stop?” I asked.

She nodded slowly.

“But not because you’re scared of the future,” she said. “Just because this moment is enough.”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Exactly that.”

We didn’t talk after that.

Ghost meowed once.
Then he hopped off the bench and disappeared again—like he always did.

And outside the window…
the sea kept pretending it didn’t know what was coming.