The water from the shower was still running, now lukewarm.
Naiara rested her cheek against Damian's chest, lulled by the sound of falling drops.
He held her tightly, unmoving, as if she might vanish the moment he let go.
For the first time, Damian felt something close to silence inside himself. Not peace, but an empty space filled with thoughts he couldn't control. Every fiber of his body screamed don't tell her, yet he knew he would have to. And in that instant, with her pressed against him, he understood: the moment he spoke, it would all end.
"Leo…" she whispered, voice trembling.
That name, not his, never his, sliced through him like a blade. He stroked her hair, steadying his breath.
"Sleep, Tigna. We have time to talk."
We have time. But he knew they didn't. Time was the one thing already slipping away.
When they stepped out of the shower, he handed her a towel. They stood in silence, eyes locked, breathless. Then, without a word, they lay down together, skin warm and damp, hearts still racing.
Naiara rested her head on his chest, tracing small circles on his skin with her fingertips.
He caressed her back, following the faint line of her scar, carefully, almost reverently.
Their breathing slowed until it matched, two tides finding rhythm in each other.
Every time she shifted, he held his breath, torn between desire and the terror of losing her.
Nay smiled faintly, eyes half closed.
"I could stay like this forever."
Damian kissed her forehead.
"Don't say that."
"Why not?"
"Because nothing lasts forever."
She looked at him for a long moment, then curled closer, her hand resting over his heart.
He held her tighter, as if protecting her from a danger already on its way.
Outside, the sea kept beating against the hull, the slow, stubborn rhythm of a heart refusing to die.
Damian stayed awake long after she fell asleep, staring at the dark horizon beyond the window. Each breath she took was a weight pressing on his chest. Each sigh, a reminder of what he'd stolen.
I have to tell her. Before someone else does. Before she hates me for the wrong reason.
At dawn, he rose quietly and got dressed, trying to rebuild the walls he had let crumble.
The mirror reflected a stranger, tired eyes, tense jaw, a face no longer his.
He was Damian, yes… but not the Damian Leo remembered, nor the man his boss demanded.
A knock snapped him back. A crewman stood in the doorway.
"Sir, the Captain requests your presence. There's been a change of course."
Damian nodded, but the word change struck him like a verdict.
In the control room, the Captain, gray-bearded and uneasy, avoided his gaze.
"Orders from Mr. Ramirez," he said. "We're heading to the private island. He wants the cargo delivered early."
The blood drained from Damian's face.
No week left. Just hours. He climbed back to the cabin, heart pounding.
Naiara was awake, sitting on the bed wrapped in a sheet, her wet hair falling over her shoulders. She smiled softly.
"You never sleep, do you?"
He stopped in the doorway. He wanted to kiss her again, to pretend this lie could last one more day. But he knew he was about to break her.
"Naiara," he said quietly. "We need to talk."
Her smile faded instantly.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't explain everything yet. But soon you'll understand… and you'll hate me for it."
Naiara clutched the sheet tighter, fear creeping into her eyes.
"You're scaring me, Leo."
He shut his eyes, wishing for a second that he was Leo, the man she thought she loved.
"You should be scared," he whispered.
And he walked out, leaving her behind with only the echo of the waves… and a truth that was already coming for them both.