Evangeline Montgomery spent three hours pacing her studio, her creative spark extinguished. She slumped in her chair, fingers knotted in her hair, feeling the familiar weight of exhaustion. She needed a change of scenery.

The aquarium was a world of blue. Sunlight refracted through the arched glass tunnels, turning the space into a bioluminescent dream. The pressure of the ocean, the creeping cold, the absolute silence—it felt like a haunting echo of her own history.

A mermaid performer danced in the tank, her movements fluid and ethereal, yet laced with a profound, shattered loneliness. Evangeline pressed her palm against the glass, and the performer mirrored the gesture, their hands meeting through the transparent barrier. A sudden, sharp shiver traced its way up Evangeline’s spine. It was right there—the sensation she’d been chasing—but it vanished before she could capture it.

She retreated to her studio, restless. She traded her street clothes for a leotard and headed to the dance room, closing her eyes to mimic the mermaid’s graceful, haunting arcs.

Suddenly, the darkness of her past life crashed down on her. The suffocating salt water, the paralyzing cold, the phantom pain in her chest—it all rushed back, leaving her gasping for air. She hit the floor, breathless and slick with cold sweat. She forced herself to stay in the memory. To stay in the pain.

Then, it hit her: the ocean wasn't just a home for a mermaid; it was a sanctuary and a cage, all at once.

The realization was electric. She didn't even stop to change; she scrambled into the workshop, pencil flying across the page. The sketch grew with a savage, blurred intensity. Half an hour later, she sat back, looking at the rough draft. It was perfect.

Her stomach gave an aggressive growl, a reminder that she hadn’t eaten since dawn.

"Remi! Save me!" she groaned, sprawling across her chair.

Remi Crawford hurried in, sensing the shift in the air. "You nailed it?"

"Yeah," Evangeline whispered, her voice spent.

Remi didn't wait to be asked. She produced a slice of strawberry shortcake with a flourish. Evangeline inhaled it, feeling the sugar hit her system like a lifesaver.

"I’m alive again," Evangeline sighed.

Remi watched her, concerned. "Your output has been insane lately. You're going to burn out your brain cells."

"I just want to get ahead," Evangeline replied, her gaze distant. "Once I have the brand established, we’re retiring. Total world tour."

Remi beamed and pulled her into a tight hug. "I swear, finding you in this life was the best thing that ever happened to me. I must have saved the world in a past life to deserve a partner like you."

"Oh, stop it," Evangeline laughed, pulling away. "You're getting mushy."

"I’m serious. Forget the Alexander guy. Let's just run away together."

Her phone chimed, cutting through the moment. It was Marcellus.

"Busy?" he asked, his voice low and steady.

"Just finished," she said.

"Drinks? Bring the Crawford girl."

Evangeline glanced at Remi, then back at the phone. "I'll check with Remi."

"Good."

On the other end, Marcellus hung up and set his phone down, his expression unreadable. "Only so much I can do for you, Spencer," he muttered.

Damian Spencer, who had spent the last twenty-four hours agonizing over his inability to talk to Remi, finally had his opening.

"Remi, Damian wants to see you," Evangeline said, putting the phone down.

Remi pulled a face. "That guy? He gave me a 'sorry' last night like he was reading from a script. It was infuriating."

"So?"

"I want a real romance, not this stuttering mess. I don't have the time to play guessing games with his internal monologue."

"Do you still like him?"

Remi looked down, her face softening. "...Maybe a little."

"Then go," Evangeline insisted. "Follow your gut. Bad or good, the feeling is all that matters. Don’t end up with regrets."

Remi exhaled, nodding. "Fine. One drink."

They arrived at The Neon Lounge, tucking themselves into a private booth. Damian was already there, stiff as a board. Marcellus leaned back, observing the scene with a smirk.

Evangeline took her place in Marcellus’s arms, feeling his familiar, possessive warmth.

The air between Damian and Remi was thick with unspoken tension. Damian took a nervous sip of his drink, his eyes darting toward Remi every few seconds. Remi’s patience snapped. She stood up, grabbing her purse.

"I’m out. You guys have fun."

Damian scrambled after her. He cornered her in a nearby room and shoved the door shut, locking it with a sharp click.

"Damian! What is your problem?" Remi snapped.

He stared at her, mesmerized by the flush on her cheeks. He looked like a man who’d forgotten how to breathe.

"You’re messing with me, aren't you?" Remi demanded.

He stumbled over his words. "No! I’m not. I was just afraid of making you mad. I... I like you, Remi!"

He blurted it out like a confession under duress. Remi’s frustration melted into a smirk. He was such a mess.

"Last time was a disaster," Damian continued, his face flushed. "I’d had too much to drink, and I didn't want to seem like a creep. I’ve never liked anyone before, I don't know how to do this right!"

Remi laughed.

Damian fell silent, terrified he’d said the wrong thing again.

"Are you finished?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Can I go now?"

Damian looked like a kicked puppy. "You still can't forgive me?"

Remi stepped forward, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed a light, quick kiss to his chin. Damian froze, his eyes widening.

"Evangeline was right," she whispered, smiling. "It’s all about how I feel right now."

"You... you're accepting me?"

"Yeah," Remi nodded.

Damian let out a strangled breath and pulled her into a fierce, suffocating hug. "Thank you, Remi."