The morning sun bled gently through the porthole blinds, casting soft lines of gold over Ruby's blanket. She stirred slowly, warmth cocooned around her, until the scent of ocean salt and distant baked goods called her back to the world.
She sat up and exhaled through her nose.
Today felt different, stable. Like the waters had calmed just enough for her to find her footing.
She pulled her hair into a loose bun and padded barefoot into the small kitchenette of her shared crew cabin. The kettle clicked on with a hiss, and the familiar bitter scent of her instant coffee offered something close to comfort.
She didn't need to impress anyone today. No monumental stakes. Just do the work. Entertain. Connect.
By the time she reached the crew corridor, the ship was already humming with movement. Housekeeping carts squeaked down the hallways. Somewhere above, an instructor's voice echoed faintly from the sunrise yoga class on Deck 12.
She arrived at the Stardust Lounge just as Jada was adjusting a microphone stand.
~ Jada: "There she is. Bright-eyed and caffeinated."
~ Ruby: "Half true."
She walked toward the small stage where two cruise staffers were arranging folding chairs for morning trivia. A few early guests had already trickled in, holding cappuccinos and croissants like shields against full consciousness.
~ Jada: "You wanna host or keep score?"
~ Ruby: "I'll host. My brain isn't math-ready yet."
~ Jada: "You just don't want to write down team names like 'The Drunken Sea Monkeys' again."
~ Ruby: "That too."
The lounge slowly filled out. Older couples, solo travelers with notepads, a group of women in matching 'Girls Trip 2025' shirts.
She took the mic and smiled.
~ Ruby: "Good morning, everyone! Hope you've had your caffeine, because it's time to prove you know more random facts than your neighbor."
A few guests chuckled. One woman raised her cup of tea like a toast.
~ Ruby: "We've got ten questions. Prizes for the winning team, bragging rights for everyone else. Ready?"
She read the first question off her cue card.
~ Ruby: "Question one: What natural phenomenon causes the Northern Lights?"
Pens scratched. Whispered consultations filled the lounge.
The trivia rolled forward smoothly. No technical issues. No awkward silences. Just guests laughing, teasing each other, and lighting up with small triumphs. It was simple, but it worked.
Afterward, as teams compared scores and filtered out, the redhead collected the pens and notecards with Jada.
~ Jada: "That actually felt... chill?"
~ Ruby: "Don't say that. You'll jinx it."
~ Jada: "Come on. After the culture event, you deserve a little peace."
Ruby gave a small smile.
🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️
🛳️ 🛳️
🛥️ 🛥️
⛴️ 𝑵𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒃𝒐𝒓 ⛴️
🚢 🚢
⛴️ ⛴️
🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️
By mid-morning, the deck was alive with music, latin horns and percussion spilling from overhead speakers.
Crew members adjusted folding chairs while a couple of dance instructors stretched near the railings. Ruby arrived just in time to catch Carla briefing the team.
~ Carla: "Keep it casual, keep it moving. Don't force anyone to join. Just make it fun. Ruby, can you keep an eye on the crowd? Get folks clapping if they don't want to dance?"
~ Ruby: "On it."
~ Carla: "Good. We want energy, not chaos."
The sun was already high, warm against her cheeks as she grabbed a handheld mic and stepped onto the deck. A few guests hovered near the edge, sunglasses on, sipping juice or snapping photos of the open sea.
~ Ruby: "Buenos días, cruisers! If you're looking to spice up your morning with a little rhythm and maybe some terrible hip action, you're in the right place."
That got a few smiles. One man raised a beer.
~ Ruby: "Our amazing instructors are about to take you through a salsa demo. You don't need experience. You don't even need rhythm. Just bring your feet and some attitude."
The music shifted into something more upbeat. The instructors took the lead: two crew members with practiced ease and showman grins.
She moved through the crowd, encouraging hesitant couples with gentle claps and waves. One older woman laughed and pulled her husband into a shaky two-step. A teenage girl filmed her parents struggling to mirror the instructors, already giggling.
By the second song, the deck had transformed. Not into a flawless performance, but into a space where people could let go, just for a moment. Ruby found herself swaying to the beat along the railing, her foot tapping with unconscious rhythm.
~ Carla: "Nice turnout."
Ruby turned to see her supervisor watching with arms crossed but pleased.
~ Ruby: "No one's fallen overboard, so I'm calling it a win."
~ Carla: "Keep that up and you might survive the rest of the week."
It was the closest thing to a compliment she was likely to get.
The music slowed as the instructors wrapped up the session, bowing with exaggerated flair. Applause rippled across the deck, warm and easy.
She handed the mic off to Jada and took a step back, letting herself just breathe for a second.
No speeches today. No stern confrontations. No knives in the gut disguised as professional feedback. Just music. Movement. Human connection.
She leaned against the railing, the wind catching strands of her hair. Somewhere behind her, a guest asked about lunch specials. Somewhere ahead, the ocean stretched wide and steady.
🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️
🛳️ 🛳️
🛥️ 🛥️
⛴️ 𝑵𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒃𝒐𝒓 ⛴️
🚢 🚢
⛴️ ⛴️
🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️
The sun sank low over the sea, painting the sky in strokes of lavender and tangerine. By the time Ruby changed out of her daytime uniform and slipped into something a little sleeker: black jumpsuit, red lip, low heels.
The ship had shifted into evening mode. The lights dimmed, the music softened. Conversations took on the easy hum of clinking glasses and warm laughter.
Tonight's jazz event was held in The Meridian Room, one of the ship's more elegant venues, with rich navy chairs and gold-rimmed tables positioned around a low stage. Candles flickered in clear holders. A three-piece band tuned up at the front, the soft thrum of bass echoing gently through the space.
Ruby stepped in just before showtime. Jada caught her eye from across the room and gave her a subtle thumbs up.
Guests began to trickle in, some dressed to the nines, others still in polos and cruise-casual dresses.
The redhead took her place near the entrance, offering smiles, light conversation, the occasional chair guidance.
This wasn't a loud event. No high energy dancing, no trivia games or cheering. This was for ambiance. For presence. For the ones who wanted to melt into something soft and smooth and unbothered.
And the young woman was grateful for it.
The band started with a mellow rendition of Autumn Leaves.
Ruby wandered through the outer circle of the room, making sure guests were comfortable, that servers had enough room to pass, that everything felt just right without ever drawing attention to herself.
She paused at the edge of the floor, soaking in the sound: the upright bass, the whisper of brushes on the snare, the saxophone, full of ache and velvet.
That's when she saw him.
Captain Evander stood at the far end of the room, near the rear corner, half-shadowed. He wasn't wearing his uniform this time. His posture was still straight, arms behind his back. But his dark shirt was open at the collar, sleeves rolled once at the wrist. His face was neutral, maybe even impassive but he wasn't scanning the room like an officer. He wasn't looking at anyone in particular.
He was just there.
The young woman didn't move or approach him. Something in her chest tightened instinctively, the same muscle memory of embarrassment from two nights ago threatening to creep in.
But tonight, she didn't let it. She held her spot, back straight, hands at her sides.
Evander's gaze shifted and met hers.
There's no change in expression: no nod or dismissal. Just the briefest moment of shared air between them, like the space acknowledged both their existences but didn't quite demand anything more.
Then the saxophone swelled into a new melody, and someone behind Ruby laughed too loudly, and when she blinked, he was already walking away.
She turned her head slightly, but didn't follow him with her eyes. Didn't chase the moment.
A guest nearby tapped her arm.
~ Guest: "Excuse me, what was the name of this song?"
~ Ruby: "'Misty.' Erroll Garner."
The woman smiled and nodded, mouthing the title like she'd keep it for later. And she stepped back into the current.
The rest of the evening unfolded like slow honey. People sank into the music, drinks were poured and sipped, and Ruby floated among them, assisting where needed, offering reassurance with a glance or a light joke when someone apologized for knocking over a cocktail napkin.
She felt competent. Balanced.
She didn't feel like the mess who'd once hidden behind a speaker and cried until her eyeliner smudged.
That girl wasn't gone. But tonight, Ruby felt like she had some distance from her. Like maybe she could look back and say: "yes, that was me. And yes, I kept going anyway."
Near the end of the set, she lingered at the back of the room. The band closed with Blue in Green, quiet and mournful. The final note hung in the air like smoke, and for a long second, no one clapped.
Then came the soft, reverent applause.
She glanced once more toward the corner where he'd stood, but the space was empty now. Evander had left.
She exhaled slowly and leaned her shoulder against the wall. Her feet ached from the heels, but she didn't care. The warmth inside her wasn't from the candles or the wine being passed around.
It was from something steadier. Like her own center had finally stopped shaking.
~ Jada: "You did good tonight."
~ Ruby: "So did the band."
~ Jada: "I mean it. You've come a long way, Rubs."
~ Ruby: "Thanks." she smiled softly
The lights dimmed further as the guests trickled out into the corridor. The room emptied in waves, until only crew remained to collect glasses and wipe down tables.
She lingered at the door for one last look. The instruments sat abandoned now, hollow and still.
But the music had done its job. So had she.
She turned and walked into the hallway, her footsteps quiet against the carpet, her spine straight, her thoughts clearer than they'd been in days.
Tomorrow would bring what it would.
But tonight, she'd held her ground.