Phantom’s POV
The third morning broke softer than the last, the sky pale and quiet, the sea below calmer, as if even the waves knew this was the end of something. Maryelle stirred beside me, her dark hair spilling across the pillow like silk, her breath steady. I watched her for a long moment, memorizing the way she looked when the world wasn’t pulling her apart.
I wanted this trip to be more than an escape. I wanted it to be proof. Proof that she and I could still find joy, still find fire, still find us.
“Come with me,” I said as she blinked awake, my voice low but certain.
She frowned, still half‑asleep. “Where are we off to now?”
“Somewhere you’ll remember,” I promised.
We left the inn after breakfast, the path winding through meadows where wildflowers bent in the breeze. I
