The party had been Melissa's idea. She had flounced into his study, feigning sweetness, talking about champagne fountains and designer guest lists. Liam had nodded along, agreed it was 'perfect,' and then, as always, taken the reins. She thought she was hosting. In reality, she was nothing more than a name on the invitation.

Because he remembered.

Jen had once told him, her voice soft with that unshakable warmth, that they would marry at the aquarium because her little sister loved it. 'She could live in there, Liam,' she'd laughed, eyes dancing. The memory had rooted itself deep inside him, and now it bloomed into something tangible. Not just any aquarium—her aquarium. He had bought the entire place outright, folding it into the sanctuary's mission. The sprawling building held rescues from all corners of the ocean: sharks that circled in slow, lazy loops, belugas that drifted like ghosts, orcas with eyes sharp as moonlight.

Every tank was designed for harmony. No predator out of place, no creature forced to cower in the shadows. They came broken, they healed, and when they were ready, they returned to the open sea. And then new lives filled the water again.

Of course, Melissa hated it. That only made him more determined.

He made certain you would have full access to the largest tank in the world. At its heart was a glass dome, a place where you could stand—or in this case, lie down—and look straight up into a living cathedral of water and light. He had a queen-sized mattress brought in, draped in clean linen, so you could rest there as long as you pleased.

God, Jen... you'd be swooning, he thought. You'd tell me this is what love looks like.

When the day finally came, the air inside the aquarium was cool and faintly salted. Music drifted from the reception area, where Melissa played her role, laughing too loudly at someone's joke. Liam was already scanning the entrance.

And then—there you were.

You walked in alongside your father, and his chest tightened. Two months since he had last seen you, and the scar was still there, a pale line from your temple to your forehead. His gaze lingered a moment too long before he met Mr. Moretti's eyes. The silent question passed between them. The man gave a single nod. Permission.

Liam didn't hesitate. He left Melissa mid-sentence, ignoring the flash of irritation in her eyes, and crossed the room. His hand found yours with a tenderness that felt dangerous, guiding you away from the press of bodies and the smell of champagne.

They walked through the dim, blue-lit corridors until the dome opened before them. He helped you lower yourself onto the mattress, moving carefully, as if you might still be breakable. Sliding down beside you, he eased his right arm under your head, letting it serve as a pillow. The gesture was instinctive, protective.

An orca drifted overhead, shadow and muscle in perfect, slow motion, and beyond it—belugas, rays, sharks, and more, all moving with a kind of otherworldly grace. Schools of silver fish spiraled in the distance, light catching on their scales like falling stars.

He tilted his head toward you, voice low and warm. "That one," he murmured, nodding upward, "is the matriarch. Been here for almost three years. Strongest they've ever seen in the wild. Those—" he pointed toward a pair of white shapes gliding past, "are belugas. Social creatures... they don't do well alone."

His thumb brushed the edge of your shoulder in a quiet, absent motion. "Every one of them's been hurt before, Mariposa. But they're here now. Safe. Healing."

He looked back up at the drifting orca, his voice softening even further. "Just like you."