The Flying Dutchman rocked gently beneath the star-streaked sky, the ocean a dark, endless expanse stretching beyond the horizon. You stood near the ship’s railing, the wind tugging at your hair, the scent of salt and distant storms filling the air.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, and you felt the warmth of Will’s chest press against your back. His embrace was a quiet anchor in the ever-shifting sea, a reminder that no matter how far the waves carried you both, you were never truly alone.

“You’re thinking again,” he murmured against your hair, his voice carrying the faintest trace of amusement.

You sighed, leaning into him. “Is that a crime?”

He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing absent patterns along your arm. “No. But I know that look. The sea has taken so much from us already—I don’t want it taking your peace, too.”

You turned in his arms, meeting his gaze. The moonlight cast silver shadows over his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, the warmth in his dark eyes.

“I chose this life,” you reminded him, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from his face. “I chose you.”

His lips parted, as if he wanted to argue—but instead, he pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “And I will spend eternity making sure you never regret it.”

The promise lingered between you, unspoken yet unbreakable, as the ocean whispered its endless lullaby around you both.