[Day 3, Dec. 22 – The Ophelia Cruise Ship]
Dave Carter
I caught her hand, gently wrapping my fingers around hers as I turned to face her. She froze, her eyes darting to mine, wide and uncertain.
I smiled softly, the weight of exhaustion from the night melting away as I took her in. I had woken up to the faint rustling of her movements, her breathing barely audible over the hum of the ship.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Her hand was warm in mine, trembling ever so slightly, as if she couldn’t decide whether to pull away or lean in.
“You’re awake,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her cheeks tinged with the faintest blush.
I nodded, my thumb brushing against her knuckles. “I am now.”
There was something about the way she looked at me—part nervous, part bold—that h
