The decision, once spoken aloud, gave everything a frightening sense of reality.
In the days that followed, Marla became careful in a way Lena had never seen before — her voice lower, her movements more deliberate, her glances constantly drifting toward hallways and corners where cameras might be hidden.
They never spoke for long, never lingered in one place, their conversations broken into fragments exchanged while folding linens, clearing trays, or walking slowly through the garden paths as if discussing nothing more than weather or flowers.
It was during one of those quiet moments, standing beneath the shade of a sprawling palm, that Marla finally laid out the truth.
“Your only chance is the supply boat,” she whispered, her lips barely moving. “It comes once a week with food, fuel,
