Ruby didn't notice at first.
The soft sway of the yacht, the quiet rhythm of the waves brushing against its sides, it all felt too calm, too safe. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they had made it out together.
But then the silence stretched. Too long. Too empty. "Max?" she called softly, her voice barely carrying past the wind.
No answer.
A faint unease curled in her chest. She pushed herself up from the bed, her bare feet meeting the cool wooden floor as she stepped out onto the deck. The morning air wrapped around her, sharp and salty, tugging gently at the white dress that flowed behind her like a whisper.
"Max?" she called again, louder this time. Still nothing. That was when she saw it.
A small piece of paper resting on the table, unmoving despite the breeze as if it had been waiting for her. Her stomach dropped.
