All Chapters of Love At Sea: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The first thing I feel is silence.Not the tense silence of hospitals or temporary safe houses. Not the oppressive silence of my childhood home, where every creak of the floorboards meant danger. This is a… living silence. Filled with the distant murmur of familiar voices, the soft sound of familiar footsteps, and the almost imperceptible hum of security systems working in the background.I open my eyes slowly.The ceiling above me is white and high, without cracks to count. Morning light enters through the wide windows, filtered by linen curtains that sway gently with a breeze that smells of garden and freshly brewed coffee. There is no smell of mold, disinfectant, or sea salt. Just the clean scent of a new house, mixed with something indefinable that my body recognizes as… home.I move carefully, testing the limits of the wound in my abdomen. The pain is present&mdas

Sleep, when it finally comes, is treacherous.I fall asleep at ten thirty, surrounded by the warmth of the three bodies that have become my anchor in the real world. Zion was behind me, his heavy arm over my waist, breathing slowly against my nape. Luka on his side, our hands intertwined even in sleep. Elias in front, his broad chest like a solid wall between me and any danger that might exist in the world outside.For a few hours, it’s genuine peace. The kind of rest I haven’t had in months—deep, restorative sleep, without the hypervigilance that kept me always on the edge of consciousness.Then, at 3:07, the past comes for me.The NightmareIn the dream, I’m back in the basement.But this time it’s worse, because my conscious mind knows it’s a dream and still can’t esc

The second week in the new house brought a routine that still feels strange on the tongue, like a word in a language I’m learning but haven’t fully mastered yet.Matthew developed the habit of waking up early and finding me on the back porch with my first coffee of the day. It’s not planned—it just happens. He comes down in his pajamas, grabs a glass of orange juice, and sits in the chair next to me to watch Dante chase imaginary butterflies in the garden.It’s an ordinary Thursday when he decides he wants more than comfortable silence.He’s wearing his school uniform, but there are still forty minutes until the transport arrives. He swings his legs, which still don’t quite reach the floor, a habit he inherited from me—physical restlessness when he’s processing something important.“Mom,” he says finally, without taki

The black leather folder lands on my desk with a sound that echoes like a verdict.Luka stands on the other side of the desk, wearing a gray dress shirt and that clinical expression he uses when he’s about to propose something he knows will be a battle. His hands are clasped behind his back, the military posture he adopts when he wants to seem less threatening than he actually is.“I found someone,” he says, without preamble.I look at the folder as if it might bite me.“Someone for what?”He opens the folder with precise movements, revealing an impeccably organized resume, a professional photo, and what appear to be several pages of background checks.“Dr. Evelyn Vance. Specialist in complex PTSD, prolonged intrafamilial trauma, and—” he makes an almost imperceptible pause—"non-convent

The first thing I notice is the cold.Not the cold of the house—the air conditioning is working perfectly, at the exact temperature Luka programmed for optimal sleep. It’s the cold of absence. The space to my right on the king-size bed is empty; the Egyptian cotton sheets already lost the body heat that should be there.The digital clock on the nightstand reads 3:47 a.m.I turn slowly, doing a silent inventory. Luka sleeps on his side, his face relaxed in a rare way, his honey-colored hair messy across his forehead. Elias is lying face down on the other side, one arm stretched out as if, even unconscious, he’s ready to protect. Dante is curled up at the foot of the bed, a golden puddle of fur and soft snoring.But Zion isn’t there.I sit up carefully, avoiding any sudden movements that might wake the other two. I slip on the silk robe I