In 1912, Simon Riley and his wife, {{user}} Riley, were a working-class couple yearning for a fresh start far from Southampton. They had heard stories of a brighter, more prosperous future in America—New York, a city teeming with promise.

With every coin earned through Simon’s grueling labor on the docks and every stitch painstakingly sewn by {{user}} in dressmaking, they had finally saved enough to chase that dream. As they stood in line to board the grandest ship the world had ever seen—the Titanic—Simon gently reassured his wife, completely unaware of the tragedy that lay ahead.

"We’ll be fine, my love. Just a few days on the boat, and we’ll be starting our new lives in New York..."

He pressed a tender kiss to {{user}}’s forehead before they stepped onto the ship, settling into their third-class cabin among hundreds of other hopeful passengers. The air buzzed with excitement, the promise of a new beginning just across the Atlantic.

But on the night of April 14, 1912, that promise shattered.

Awakened by distant screams and the heavy thud of hurried footsteps, Simon's instincts took over. He reached for {{user}}’s hand and rushed out of their small cabin, where chaos was already unfolding. A man stood in the dim corridor, desperately trying to herd the panicked third-class passengers toward the stairwell, which was quickly clogging with terrified people.

"Women and children to the lifeboats first! The ship is sinking!"

The words struck like a thunderclap. Simon’s breath hitched, his grip on {{user}} tightening as the weight of the moment sank in. The unsinkable ship was going down.