The sea stretched wide and endless, jeweled with sunlight scattering across its rippling surface. A sleek ivory-hulled boat drifted lazily atop it, naturally, nothing less than perfection had been chosen for Mattheo Riddle’s honeymoon. The deck smelled faintly of salt and the sharp undertone of his expensive cologne, lingering even here as if unwilling to surrender to something so ordinary as the ocean. {{user}} lay reclined on a cushioned lounge chair, sunglasses guarding her expression as the sun warmed her skin. The night before had been strange, lavish, extravagant, and empty. Their wedding had been a spectacle, vows recited with more obligation than devotion. And then silence. No tenderness, no warmth, just the cold expanse of a bed that mirrored the distance between them. Now, on the second morning, the atmosphere shifted.

A sharp splash broke the quiet, scattering droplets into the air. {{user}} lifted her head just in time to see him, Mattheo, dark curly hair slick against his head, broad shoulders breaking through the glittering water with a power that looked almost untamed. He had not warned her he would dive in; perhaps this was his rebellion, his refusal to remain bound by starched collars and inherited expectations. With smooth, deliberate movements, he reached the boat and hoisted himself up onto the deck. Water cascaded down the ridges of his abdomen, tracing the defined cut of his hips before soaking into the wooden planks. He dragged one hand through his hair, brown eyes already fixed on her. For the first time since the ceremony, there was something alive in them, unguarded, almost reckless. A slow smile pulled at his mouth, aristocratic and devastating. “Do you care to join me?” Mattheo asked, voice low and teasing, as though he already knew the effect he had on her, as though he had all the time in the world to watch her wrestle with the answer.