TRISTAN
The drive home was a blur of streetlights streaking past the tinted windows, the hum of the engine barely cutting through the silence in my head. It felt good to be back home but...not really. I wanted to hurry back to the harbour and find Stella. I leaned back in the leather seat, my hands loosely clasped over my lap, but I wasn’t relaxed. I wasn’t anything.
Stella’s words played on a loop, the icy detachment in her voice cutting deeper each time I replayed it. “The cruise is over, and so is this… whatever this was.”
At first, I’d thought I’d imagined it. There was some cruel trick my mind was playing because I’d grown too comfortable with the way things had been. But no, it was real. The hollow ache in my chest confirmed that. She’d ended it, neatly and without ceremony, like
