She doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word.
“Climb down from that chair. Can you do that first? Then put the chair back under the desk. Then leave the room. Just step outside, close the door, walk away, and leave it all behind you. Don’t even think about the devices again. Okay?”
Roshaan wavers.
Theo softens his tone, taking the gap. “Rosh, I can see you’re scared, hon. But there’s nothing strange about this. There are cameras all over the ship. People are fully aware that they’re continually being monitored in places like this, or they should be. That’s the world we live in today. Restaurants, banks, grocery stores, transit hubs, ships, ferries, trains, everywhere. Doorbell ring cams. Nanny cams. Baby cams. Dog cams. Always watched. This is no different. Come down off that chair, come down here to my room to see me.”
Roshaan stands frozen, tears welling.
“Roshaan, please, just come to me. We’ll talk about it, and if it still bothers you, we’ll make another plan. Okay? Anything for you, because I love you, Rosh. You know that, right?”
Her silence stretches.
“It’s okay, Rosh,” he says even more softly. “Please come to me.” Theo hesitates, but barely.He takes a breath. “Listen, I’ve been saving something for you. I was going to wait until Santorini, but I want you to have it now. Please, come down to my cabin.”
Roshaan
Roshaan finally relents and climbs down from the chair. She pushes it back under the desk and stares at herself in the large mirror. The Calliope suite unfolds behind her in neutral Nordic tones, clean, elegant lines. She sees the champagne waiting on ice, the chocolates, the fresh fruit, dates, nuts, cakes, figs, cheeses. She sees the impossible blues of the Aegean beyond the wall of glass. She can glimpse the marble-tiled bathroom through the door, and the fully stocked bar, the espresso machine with its neat rows of coffee beans.
It’s a world, she realizes, that she’ll only ever service for others more privileged. Once, when she first set out to discover the universe, she’d dared dream for more—much more. She’d thought herself bold enough, smart enough, to become the kind of guest she waited on now.
Theo had sensed this secret fire burning inside her. He’d fed and fueled and fanned the flames. He promised they’d get there—together. They’d be the belowdecks couple who would rise like cream to the top decks. Into the sun. The light.
But perhaps she’s just destined to be Roshaan from Kalk Bay. The once “such a good” Muslim girl who walked away from her community, tempted by the whisperings and false promises of Shaytan. Now she’s nothing more than a tired concierge on vessels with no permanent moorings and an endless revolving door of guests to serve.
Her gaze slides back up to the cam with its little evil black eye, lurking, listening, waiting for the occupants of the Calliope suite to arrive. Theo watching through it from the dark bowels of the ship.
I love you, Rosh ... I’ve been saving something for you ... Come down to my cabin.
Tears spill down her cheeks. She swipes them away.
Maybe this will be it. A proposal. A ring.
A darker thought coils around the idea—barely conscious, but there.
Is he just using me? Is Theo purely, wholly transactional?
What about Maxine?
Roshaan definitely saw something between Maxine and Theo. She’d be lying if she denied the intimacy of it.
Suddenly she’s beyond desperate to see Theo. To lay eyes on him, touch him, feel his body against hers, hear him deny affection for Maxine. Reaffirm his love for her—Roshaanneedsto anchor herself to his presence. Needs to wrap herself up in his aura.
If she hurries, she might just be able to get all the way down to the crew quarters before her missing Calliope guests show up. She moves fast, agency suddenly a blade in her chest.
But as she exits and shuts the Calliope door behind her, she senses a presence.
She glances down the hallway, and jumps.
It’s the little towheaded grandson of Dr. Gideon Marsh. He stands outside his suite, watching her with a notebook and pen in his hands.
Roshaan realizes her own hands are still shaking.
“Hi,” the kid says. “Is that suite for more of your guests?”
“Hi, Carter. Yes—I—uh, I was just double-checking that everything looks good before they arrive.”
He nods. Sagely. Importantly. All eight years of him. His gaze remains fixed on hers.
