The ocean outside their suite was the color of melted glass, waves breaking in slow rhythm against the shore. June Ellery sat on the balcony, her bare feet propped on the cool metal railing, a half-empty mimosa sweating beside her. The morning sun painted the sky in soft gold, but the silence between her and Caleb was louder than the sea.
He was inside, packing a camera bag for the third time, muttering about losing his charger again. She watched his reflection in the sliding glass door — focused, frowning, already dressed for another “adventure day.” They’d planned a boat tour, but the thought of pretending everything was fine made her stomach twist.
“Did you sleep?” Caleb asked without looking up.
“Enough,” June said softly. She traced the rim of her glass with her fingertip, listening to the faint squeak it made. “You?”
“Yeah.” He zipped the bag shut. “We should head down soon. The shuttle leaves in thirty.”
She nodded, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to go. The first few days had been easy — laughter over breakfast, sunscreen on each other’s shoulders, late swims in the pool. Now, conversations felt shorter, movements more separate.
June reached for her sunglasses. “It’s funny,” she said quietly. “I thought honeymoons were supposed to feel… different.”
Caleb paused, finally glancing at her. “Different how?”
She shrugged, forcing a smile. “I don’t know. Maybe just… warmer.”
He laughed under his breath, not unkindly but dismissively. “You’re overthinking again. It’s just a trip, June. Not everything has to mean something.”
The words stung more than she expected. She looked away, out at the endless horizon. The ocean didn’t answer, but it seemed to echo what she already knew — something small and unspoken had shifted, and no amount of pretending could hide it.
She stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress. “Right,” she murmured. “Just a trip.”
But as she followed him out the door, June couldn’t shake the feeling that the rest of their marriage might depend on what neither of them was willing to say aloud.