Where the Waves Taught me Love

Chapter Twelve: Saltwater and Fury

SABRINA

The car slowed to a stop, and I felt my blood boil all over again. My father hadn’t even let me argue, hadn’t given me a chance to explain, to breathe — just packed my things and shipped me off like some rebellious teenager.

The driver came around and opened the door. I shoved my sunglasses onto my face and stepped out of the car with a sharp click of my heels. The salty breeze immediately brushed against my skin, making my hair whip behind me.

Normally, I’d love this — the smell of the ocean, the sound of waves lapping at the shore — but right now it only made me more furious. This wasn’t a vacation. This was exile.

My eyes narrowed as I stared at the coastline. “Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath. My father was really sending me away… to an island. Like I was some problem that needed to be hidden where no one could find me.

“Miss Sabrina,” the driver said carefully, as if he could feel the storm brewing inside me. “The boat is waiting for you.”

I spun toward him, frowning. “Boat?”

“Yes, Miss.” He gestured toward the dock.

I followed his direction, expecting to see a sleek yacht — something worthy of my name, at least. But instead, my jaw dropped.

There it was. A small, rickety-looking boat bobbing on the water like it could sink any second. And sitting inside were actual fish vendors with baskets of fresh catch, staring at me like I was an alien. The smell hit me next — salty, raw, fishy — and I almost gagged.

"You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said out loud. “That’s my ride to the island? A boat full of—” I gagged. “Fish? Seriously?”

The driver winced. “I’m sorry, Miss. Your father requested a boat… this was the only one available at such short notice.”

I could feel my blood pressure spike. “A yacht is a boat. A speedboat is a boat. This…” I pointed at the floating disaster ahead. “This is an insult.”

“Again, my apologies, Miss,” he said, bowing slightly.

I turned back to the sea, clenching my fists. My father knew me well enough to know I hated being uncomfortable — so this had to be part of the punishment. Not just sending me to some remote island but making sure the journey there was as humiliating as possible.

No yacht. No private speedboat. Just this.

“Oh my god,” I muttered under my breath, pulling my sunglasses higher on my nose. “I’m going to smell like tuna by the time I get there.”

The driver cleared his throat like he hadn’t heard me muttering insults at my father’s genius plan. “Miss Sabrina, we should hurry. The boat leaves in a few minutes.”

I turned to glare at him, crossing my arms. “You call that a boat?”

He just nodded, completely unfazed, which somehow made me even angrier. “Fine,” I snapped. “But if I get seasick, I’m suing my dad.”

Inside, though, I was screaming. This cannot be my life right now.

I stalked down the dock, my heels clicking against the wood. Every step closer to that sad little fishing boat made me regret every life choice that brought me to this moment. When I finally reached the edge, I froze, staring at the thing like it might swallow me whole.

It smelled like fish — obviously — but not just any fish. Old fish. Dead fish. The kind of smell that clings to your hair and your clothes and haunts you for the rest of your existence. Crabs crawling around in little cages, some slimy creatures I couldn’t even name.

I hesitated, hugging my bag like it was going to protect me from the smell.

“This is so gross,” I muttered, wrinkling my nose.

One of the fish vendors glanced up from where he was sorting his catch and smirked. “What? Scared to get your pretty shoes dirty, princesa?”

Laughter erupted from the others, and I felt my face heat. Great. Perfect. Now I was being mocked by strangers who probably smelled like squid.

The driver gestured to the boat.

“Please, Miss. Careful with your step.”

Careful? That was an understatement. My heels were designer — one wrong move and they’d be ruined forever. I gripped the driver’s arm and very slowly, very carefully, climbed in, praying I wouldn’t slip.

The boat rocked under my weight, and I let out a small squeak before quickly composing myself. The vendors snickered again, and I shot them a glare that could have set them on fire if I had superpowers.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” I muttered as I found a relatively clean spot to sit. “Seriously, who does this to their own daughter?”

The vendors didn’t stop talking, and I was pretty sure they were laughing at me the whole time. My nose wrinkled again as I crossed my legs, trying to keep as far away from the baskets of fish as possible.

Then the driver stepped onto the boat and handed me a thick envelope.

“What is this?” I asked, eyeing it like it might bite me too.

“Documents,” he explained, his tone professional. “Inside, you will find the itinerary for your stay, a list of tasks you are required to complete, and the name of the person in charge of you when you arrive on the island.”

I opened the envelope and skimmed through the papers, my annoyance growing with every page.

“Tasks?” I repeated. “Like what, clean seashells and sing with dolphins? This isn’t some tropical internship. I didn’t sign up for survivor camp!”

“Those are your father’s orders, Miss Sabrina,” the driver said.

I snapped the envelope shut and shoved it back into my bag, groaning dramatically as I leaned back against the side of the boat.

“Unbelievable,” I whispered to myself. “Absolutely unbelievable.”

The boat engine started, loud and rattling, and I shut my eyes as the boat began to move. The salty spray of the sea hit my skin, and my hair whipped around my face.

I hated this. Every second of it.

If hell had a scent, it would smell exactly like this boat. I tried to breathe through my mouth, but that made it worse. Now I could taste it.

Beside me, one of the vendors dumped a basket of crabs closer to my feet. The crabs started clicking their claws, climbing over each other like they were planning an escape, and my whole body tensed.

“Oh my god,” I muttered under my breath, lifting my feet onto the bench. “If one of those things touches me, I swear I’m jumping overboard.”

That made one of the vendors laugh. “Relax, princesa,” he said, grinning like this was the funniest thing he’d seen all day. “They don’t bite… most of the time.”

I shot him a glare from behind my sunglasses. “That’s not helping.”

Another wave splashed over the side of the boat, soaking the bottom of my skirt. I gasped, horrified, as the cold water seeped into the fabric.

“Seriously?!” I yelled at no one in particular. “This is disgusting! My heels are ruined!”

The vendors just chuckled and went back to their work like I wasn’t even there. One of them started gutting a fish right in front of me, tossing its insides into a bucket. I whipped my head away, gagging at the sight.

This is punishment, I told myself. Actual punishment. Dad didn’t just send me away—he sent me to suffer.

Every bump of the waves made the boat rock, and I clung to the side to keep from sliding. Water kept splashing in, and soon my hair was sticking to my cheeks. I tried to smooth it down, but my fingers were wet too.

“Miss, are you alright?” the driver asked from across the boat.

“No!” I snapped, louder than I meant to. “I am very much not alright! This boat smells like death, I’m wet, my hair is ruined, and if I survive this trip without smelling like a fish market, it’ll be a miracle!”

The driver just gave me a polite nod, like he hadn’t heard the full extent of my suffering, and turned back to face the ocean.

I sank back against the bench, squeezing my eyes shut. If I focused on the horizon, maybe I wouldn’t throw up.

This is hell.

The rocking of the boat, the smell of fish, the sound of water sloshing around—it was all too much. My stomach twisted again, and I pressed a hand over it, forcing myself to breathe slowly.

I hated this.

Back in the city, I’d be waking up in my own bed, probably with Liza blowing up my phone asking what I was wearing for class today. Yannie would be sending voice notes complaining about people she hated in the hallway, and we’d all meet up at the lounge before first class. That was my normal. My life.

And now? I was stuck on a stinking boat, surrounded by fish vendors who didn’t care that my world had just been turned upside down.

I bit my lip hard, trying to stop the sting in my eyes. Crying was weak. I didn’t cry.

But I missed them.

For sure, they were looking for me, they were panicking the way I was. I wanted to call them, but I couldn't. Dad had made sure I couldn’t contact anyone—he took my phone, my cards, even my laptop. No calls, no messages, nothing. I felt cut off from the world, like I had been erased from my own life overnight.

***