And when the night grew heavier still, I left the yacht for the water. The Mediterranean opened around me, black glass broken only by silver threads of moonlight. The sea was warm, slow, and endless, its surface folding smooth over my shoulders as if it wished to seal me inside. She followed without hesitation, her body gleaming, her devotion alive even here, beyond the deck, beyond the globe of my world.

We swam together in silence, the water holding us as no bed could, each motion slow, liquid, inexhaustible. When I took her there, beneath the stars, the sea itself seemed to pause. Her breath rose in waves, her hands clung like tide to stone, and she received me wholly, fearless as ever. Around us the Mediterranean breathed like another body, vast and pliant, carrying the rhythm forward. The night was no longer divided between yacht and sky and sea. It was one. It was us.