ANCHORED

CHAPTER 16

Jariel pov

The mess room had become my personal purgatory. Each meal was a fresh torment, a daily reminder of Cobham's increasingly obvious avoidance. It wasn't just that he wasn't seeking me out—it was the deliberate way he seemed to be creating distance, a vast and echoing chasm between us. His laughter, once a melody that set my heart dancing, now felt like shards of glass grinding against my soul.

It was Rayer, the third officer, who seemed to draw the lion's share of his attention. I'd watch them from across the crowded table, Cobham's eyes crinkling at the corners as he listened to her stories, a genuine smile lighting his face. The same smile he used to reserve for me. Now, if our paths happened to cross, it was a curt nod, a fleeting acknowledgment that barely registered before he turned away, back to Rayer and the others. It was as if I'd become invisible, a ghost haunting the edges of his world.

And the work... gods, the work. I wasn't afraid of hard labor; I'd proven that time and again. But the tasks Cobham had been assigning me lately felt pointed, almost punitive. Scooping mud from the ballast tanks, the thick, foul-smelling sludge clinging to my skin and clothes, or chipping rust in the bowels of the ship, the metallic dust stinging my eyes and coating my lungs. These weren't just jobs; they were tests of endurance, trials designed to break my spirit. I couldn't help but wonder if this was his way of driving me away, of making me so miserable that I'd request a transfer at the next port.

The worst part was the uncertainty. Had I imagined it all? Had the stolen glances, the lingering touches, the whispered conversations under the starlit sky been nothing more than wishful thinking on my part? Was I just another naive fool who'd misread the signals, projecting my own desires onto a man who never saw me as anything more than a crewmate? The thought was a bitter pill to swallow, a crushing weight that threatened to drag me under.

I found myself replaying every interaction, searching for clues, for signs that I'd misinterpreted his intentions. But the more I analyzed, the more confused I became. There were moments of undeniable connection, instances where I could have sworn he felt the same pull, the same magnetic force that drew us together. But now? Now, all I felt was the cold sting of rejection, the hollow ache of a love that might never have been.

Sleeping had become a refuge, a temporary escape from the harsh reality of my waking hours. But even in my dreams, Cobham haunted me, his image flickering between the tender lover and the distant captain, a constant reminder of what I'd lost—or perhaps, what I'd never had.

Each day, I woke with a renewed sense of dread, knowing that another agonizing shift in the mess room awaited me. How much longer could I endure this silent torture? How much more could my heart take before it shattered completely? The ship, once a symbol of adventure and freedom, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in on me, suffocating me with the weight of my unrequited love. I was lost at sea, adrift in a storm of emotions, with no land in sight. And the only lighthouse that could guide me home had turned its back on me, leaving me to navigate the treacherous waters alone.