ANCHORED

CHAPTER 17

Weeks at sea had etched a visible line between the Jariel of the voyage's start and the woman she had become. The boundless ocean, once a source of inspiration and dreams, now seemed to mirror the vast, uncrossable distance growing within her. The most glaring change was the absence of her smile. It had been her trademark, a beacon that lit up the ship, but now it was a relic of the past, a ghost that haunted the memories of those who knew her best.

Jariel had become a phantom, flitting through her duties with a mechanical precision that was both admirable and deeply unsettling. She threw herself into her work, a desperate attempt to find solace in the mundane, to bury the turmoil that churned within her. It was a shield, a way to avoid the one person who triggered the storm inside her: Captain Cobham. Every shared space, every potential encounter, was a minefield she navigated with meticulous care.

The mess room, once a place of camaraderie and laughter, became a source of anxiety for Jariel. She started avoiding meal times, waiting until the room was empty, the echoes of conversation faded, before she would slip in to eat alone. The shared meals, the easy banter, the stolen glances – they were all reminders of a connection that had been irrevocably altered. Even the simple act of breaking bread with her crewmates had become a painful ordeal.

One evening, after the day's duties had been completed, Amrey found Jariel in their cabin, staring out at the endless horizon. The setting sun cast long shadows across her face, highlighting the weariness in her eyes. Amrey sat beside her, a comfortable silence stretching between them before she spoke, her voice laced with concern. "You've changed, Jariel," she said softly. "It's like... you're not really here anymore."

Jariel didn't respond, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

"You don't smile anymore," Amrey continued, "and everyone's noticed. Even Kris is worried, but he's too scared to ask you what's wrong."

Jariel finally turned, her eyes meeting Amrey's. "I'm fine," she said, her voice flat.

Amrey reached out, taking Jariel's hand in hers. "No, you're not. We're your friends, Jariel. You can talk to us."

Jariel pulled her hand away, standing up and pacing the small cabin. "There's nothing to talk about," she insisted, her voice rising slightly. "I'm just... tired."

Amrey stood as well, her expression firm. "It's more than that, and you know it. Whatever it is, you don't have to carry it alone."

Jariel stopped pacing, her back to Amrey. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken words and suppressed emotions. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper. "It's... complicated."

"Then uncomplicate it," Amrey said gently. "Let us help you."

Jariel turned to face her friend, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and vulnerability. "I don't know if I can," she said, her voice trembling. "I don't know if I can ever be the same again."