---PrologueApril 15, 1912 – North Atlantic OceanSomewhere beneath the waves, her name is still in my lungs.I remember her laughter — not like a sound, but like sunlight spilled on cold marble.I remember the way she held my hand on the promenade deck, like the world was steady only when her fingers threaded mine.I remember everything.And I hate it.Because memory is a cruel thing when you are the only one left to carry it.The night we sank, the stars watched in silence.They did not blink when the ship split in two.They did not scream when mothers lost babies or when lovers lost their final kiss to the ocean.They just looked down, cold and distant, as if the tragedy belonged to someone else.She was wearing blue. That’s what kills me.Not the screams. Not the water.But the way her dress floated for a moment — like she might rise, like she might come back — before the sea stole her.I begged God. I begged the sea. I begged the night to trade me instead.But they only answered with silence. And salt.They pulled me from the wreckage with lungs full of regret.And ever since, I’ve been breathing for two.People call it history.I call it the grave I walk in every day.Her name was Annalise.She was my beginning. And the Titanic was our end.Some say love is eternal.But I know better now.Love doesn’t always survive the cold.Sometimes,it sinks.