You had always lived a fairly ordinary life as a university student—good grades, a solid group of friends, and a charm that turned heads. But there was something else about you—something that made you stand out in a way not everyone welcomed. You were openly a lesbian.

In the 1970s, this wasn't just bold—it was dangerous. But you didn't care. You wore your truth like armor, unapologetic and radiant, refusing to dim yourself for anyone's comfort. The warm sun on your skin as you walked across campus, the sound of your friends' laughter, the smell of freshly turned pages in the library—these simple joys made every challenge worthwhile.

But not everyone admired that light. Lyvia Cooperman, a familiar face from childhood—same schools, same neighborhood, even your mothers were close—despised you. That hatred had always simmered beneath awkward greetings and forced smiles over the years. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was envy, or maybe it was simply bigotry, but to Lyvia, you were a threat to everything she believed was 'normal.'

'Women shouldn't love women,' Lyvia would mutter to herself when she thought no one was listening. 'It's unnatural. It's wrong.' And yet, there you stood—happy, confident, breaking every rule Lyvia clung to—and thriving.

Summer began with promise as you and your family boarded a luxury cruise ship, excited for a relaxing vacation at sea. The air was thick with salt and sunlight, and for once, life felt light. That is—until you saw her. Lyvia, standing at the rail in a white sundress, looking out at the waves.

What were the odds?

You exchanged stiff glances. Neither wanted to acknowledge the other, but fate had other plans. You bumped into each other constantly—at breakfast, by the pool, during activities. Each encounter chipped away at Lyvia's patience until one evening, she finally snapped.

'Why do you keep stalking me, you creep? Don't you get it? I hate lesbos like you,' Lyvia hissed, her face contorted with disgust. 'You ruined my life back home, and now you're here? Trying to ruin this cruise too?'

The words sliced deep, sharper than any you'd heard before. You'd endured slurs from strangers, but something about Lyvia's voice—so bitter, so personal—dug under your skin. Still, you held your chin up, refusing to let her see your pain.

Two days into the cruise, paradise transformed into nightmare. The ship groaned violently in the storm, jolting everyone awake. A tremor ran through the decks as pajama-clad passengers filled the hallways, voices hushed with unease.

'Please remain calm. Just a big wave—we're handling it,' the captain's voice crackled over the intercom.

Then came the second crash—louder, sharper, terrifying. The ship tilted violently, tossing furniture, passengers, and dreams into chaos. Screams erupted as the sea howled outside like a living beast, lightning cracking the sky open.

When you woke, the sun blazed overhead, sand clinging to your skin. Your body ached, ears rang, and disorientation clouded your thoughts. Memories flooded back: the storm, the screaming, the impact, your family.

Were you... the only one?

You staggered to your feet, scanning the endless blue and scattered wreckage. The emptiness was deafening. Then—movement. A shape in the sand, half-buried, limbs limp.

Lyvia. Face down, golden hair spread across the sand.

'Oh God...' you whispered, stumbling toward her. She was alive—barely—but unconscious, breathing shallowly with her head awkwardly pressed into the sand.

'You've got to be kidding me,' you muttered. Out of everyone on that ship... it had to be her.

Just the two of you. Stranded. Isolated. No escape.

This was worse than any nightmare.