Page 75 of Blue in the Deep Blue Sea

What the fuck, Oliver?

A kiss on the top of her head?

I cleared my throat as she nodded, then stepped outside. Closing the door behind me, I scanned the shoreline for boats, but all I found were barrels and supplies from the yacht scattered across the beach in front of the lighthouse. The current must have carried them all the way to the island, just as it had carried us.

Making my way down, I noticed someone lying on the shore.

From the color alone, I knew whoever it was had been dead for a while.

A few more steps brought me to the body of a dark haired woman. Or rather, what was left of her. Only the upper half remained. The rest had been torn away by a shark.

Slowly, I knelt beside her. My stomach twisted, already knowing this might be Isabella.

I gently turned her over.

Her face was swollen from days in the sea, almost unrecognizable, but the small butterfly necklace resting against her neck stopped me cold.

A few nights ago, she clutched it while she talked to me.

I knew it was her.

Carefully, I dragged her further up the shore before returning to the shallow water to gather whatever had come from the yacht. A first aid kit floated between the rocks, along with a small purse and two bags of vegetables that had once been frozen but had thawed in the sea. Nearby, a barrel of red wine bobbed in the water, one the chef had kept for dinner service.

I hauled everything onto the beach and placed it beside Isabella’s body.

No one prepares you for this.

For gathering the scattered pieces of people you knew.

For standing over someone who was alive only days ago, knowing the image would follow you long after you closed your eyes.

For being stranded on an island with no way home.

Everything became survival, and nothing else mattered anymore.

My whole life, I’d been a rich asshole who thought only about money and finding an escape. Standing there, staring at Isabella, I finally understood that life had never been about money.

It was about living, the people beside you. About love. About the quiet, ordinary moments you never think to appreciate until they’re gone.

One day, every one of us reaches the end.The tragedy is that most of us don’t realize what truly matters until it’s already too late.

She sacrificed herself, knowing there was no way out, and gave the two of us a chance. I’d be a fool to take that for granted.

Part of me was still trapped in the hurt Gabriella had caused, while another part wanted to give her a chance after all the years we’d lost. And if we were rescued, maybe we’d finally decide whether we still had something between us or whether we’d become nothing more than strangers who only knew each other from afar.

I turned towards the lighthouse, and I saw her. Both her hands were clamped over her mouth, trapping the scream that fought to break free. She had just watched another friend disappear into the sea, and every fear she’d buried rose back to the surface.

I didn’t think as she came closer. I rushed in front of her, cutting her off before she could see Isabella like this. My hands wrapped around her wrists, holding her still as I stood over her.

“Don’t,” I said.

Like some twisteddéjà vufrom a year ago.

And just like a year ago, she didn’t listen.

She shoved me aside and stumbled towards what was left of Isabella’s body. Another sob tore from her, so raw it made my own vision blur.

If I tried to count how many people she’d lost, one hand wouldn’t be enough. Yet she still chose to smile. I knew what that kind of pain looked like because I’d seen it. And now I knew I had to keep her a little closer.