"Oh, the third anniversary." Roman’s tone was glacial.

Adelaide looked at her brother, suspicious. The way he’d dropped that line felt off. She tilted her head, watching him closely. "How are you two planning to celebrate?"

Roman slammed the cocktail shaker onto the bar with a sharp *clatter*. "Sending you two home—that’s the biggest celebration."

Adelaide shrugged and walked off, leaning over to whisper to Kaisen. "Big brother is being a total weirdo."

"No kidding," Kaisen muttered, nodding. "It’s actually shocking he’s even in the mood to spend the whole day playing around with us."

Violette finished washing her hands and stepped out, nearly colliding with Adelaide. Thinking the girl was headed for the restroom, she stepped aside, but Adelaide didn't move. Instead, she leaned into Violette, clinging to her like a koala. "Sister-in-law, my brother is being a jerk to me."

"Oh?" Violette asked. They’d only been separated for a minute—what could have happened between them? She gripped Adelaide’s shoulders to steady her.

"I just asked him how you two were celebrating your third anniversary," Adelaide pouted. "He’s so stingy. He kicked me out."

A chill raced down Violette's spine. "What third anniversary?"

"Oh, sorry! I saw the reminder pop up on your phone!" Adelaide straightened up, looking sheepish. "You know, your three-year dating anniversary?"

*Ah.* That explained it.

The smile on Violette's face stiffened for a heartbeat before she forced it back into place. "I’ll go ask him about it later."

Adelaide, satisfied that she’d successfully offloaded her grievance, wandered off to find her own cocktail. A beautiful, deep azure blend sat waiting for her—the color of the ocean earlier that day, a shade that felt like a sanctuary of freedom.

Violette walked over to the bar, offering a polite thank you before taking a sip. The alcohol was subtle, leaving a lingering, sweet hint of mint and lime on her tongue.

Roman had a habit of cleaning as he worked. Just as he would rinse and wipe down every plate while a soup simmered on the stove—leaving the kitchen sparkling clean the moment the meal was served—he treated mixology the same way. One drink finished, the ice bucket and shaker tidied away, then the next.

He didn't look up as he poured, but he spoke. "I don't usually mix drinks. Don't expect perfection."

His expression was neutral; his tone was even. He was a master of concealment. Had Adelaide not spilled the beans, no one would have guessed that his placid exterior was hiding a jagged edge. He was exactly like the ocean behind them—calm under the moonlight, concealing a turbulent, crushing current beneath the surface.

Violette set her glass down and beckoned him closer with a curled finger.

"What is it?"

Roman asked, though his torso leaned in instinctively. He was dressed casually today, wearing a sweater similar to hers. The fabric pressed against the edge of the bar, and as the sea breeze caught it, the soft material clung tightly to his waist.

"Here..." Violette reached out, tapping the corner of his mouth with a finger. "Why are you still unhappy?"

"Am I?" Roman countered.

"You are."

Some things get easier with practice. Violette pushed off the stool with her feet, rising until she was level with him. She leaned in, pressing her lips quickly against the exact spot she’d tapped. "I forgot to delete the reminder."

Roman held her gaze, unblinking.

"I honestly didn't even think about it until that notification popped up," she added softly.

She pulled out her phone and laid it flat on the bar, open to the app. "Is this what’s bothering you? Look, everything in here now—it’s only about you."

All traces of Blake Pierce had been scrubbed clean. Only their wedding anniversary remained, alongside Roman’s birthday. The list of milestones between them was still sparse, looking a little barren at first glance, but Violette looked up at him. "Roman, we have so much more time to build on this."

She had cheated. That was the only thought in Roman’s mind as he pulled her in for a kiss. She knew exactly how to smooth over a raging sea; she was the goddess of the moonlight, commanding the tides. He pulled her tight, deepening the kiss, his right hand slamming against the wall as he extinguished the lights in the cabin.

On the deck, Kaisen was gathering the fishing gear when he felt the sudden drop in light. He started to turn around, only for Adelaide to clamp a hand over his head and force him to look the other way.

"What are you doing?" Kaisen hissed.

"Don't ask, don't look," Adelaide recited, monotone. "Some things are just better left unseen."

***

After a day of recharging, Violette returned to the station with a renewed sense of drive.

Emma Fox looked up with eyes reddened from an all-nighter. "Master, are you actually the legendary, terrifying workaholic?"

"What did you do all weekend? Why didn't you rest properly?" Violette asked.

Emma didn't dare admit she’d spent the weekend obsessively updating her blog. Her source material was running dry; she was half-tempted to sneak into Violette’s home and plant a hidden camera. The pressure of having a growing fanbase was real. Her casual hobby had become a holy site for "shippers," and she’d just hit ten thousand followers last night! Unlike the engagement-farming accounts that bought bot followers, Emma knew every single one of hers was real. A single post would trigger an instant deluge of comments. Real, living fans—the rarest currency on the internet.

"Master, where did you go this weekend?"

Violette smiled. "Surfing."

"Master, you’re so cool! Were you alone? Wow, that's so brave!"

"I was with my husband," Violette said, missing the bait entirely, just treating it as idle chatter. "It was my first time, too. He taught me."

"Oh my god, that’s amazing! Do you have photos?"

As it happened, she did—a few shots she’d taken once she finally managed to stay upright on the board. Roman had sent them to her last night, and she hadn't even had the chance to look through them yet.

Violette took out her phone and started scrolling through the chat history, saving them one by one. Roman’s photography skills were surprisingly good. The images were raw, no filters, but he’d captured the atmosphere perfectly. The clear blue sea, the vast sky, and her—laughing recklessly as she mastered her balance, her hair caught in a wild, flying arc—she looked truly, vibrantly free.

"This one is gorgeous! And this one!" Emma clicked through them, mesmerized. "Master, you look beautiful even when you’re a total mess! Oh wow, this one makes you look like a little mermaid. Did your husband take this too?"

Violette glanced over at the photo Emma was pointing to—one where she’d fallen into the water. The salt had stung her eyes, and she was turning her head away, caught in a candid side profile. The light dancing off the water made her skin look flawless. Pale skin, dark hair, an air of pure, effortless grace.

Violette nodded. "Yeah, he took that one."

"He really knows how to shoot!" Emma sighed. "Is there actually anything he’s bad at?"

Anything he was bad at?

Violette thought for a moment. "He’s pretty bad at expressing his feelings."

Violette let out a small laugh. Emma turned, staring at her with laser-like focus, scanning her face. That beautiful mouth, which supposedly belonged to a man who could "drive you crazy" with his lack of communication, was currently curled into a soft, genuine smile. There was no sign of anyone being driven crazy at all!

"Master," Emma called out.

"Yes?"

Emma felt like a lemon being squeezed—sour and green with envy. She blurted out, "Have you noticed that whenever you talk about your husband, your voice gets so incredibly sweet?"