Whispers from the Deep

Part 4

A part of me had expected Thomas to break the news first thing in the morning. I had even half-dreamed about it, imagining him leaning over with a sleepy smile and whispering, "Let's buy the boat, Aubrey." That didn't happen, though. Instead, he took his time, insisting we walk and have breakfast first. I tried to be patient—I honestly did—but as we strolled through the quiet streets of Portalban, my mind kept drifting back to My Sunshine, no matter how hard I tried to focus on anything else.

We found ourselves at a delightful little café between two stone buildings, where the smell of freshly baked pastries wafted through the air. The moment I bit into my croissant, I nearly forgot all my troubles. It was undoubtedly the best I'd ever tasted; the flaky layers yielded to the most exquisite pistachio filling. Combined with the rich fragrance of my coffee, it was the sort of breakfast that encouraged you to slow down and savour every morsel.

The sun had already risen well above the horizon, but it still painted the sky with soft shades of orange and gold. The lake shimmered in the distance, stretching endlessly beyond the marina. I stared at it, completely mesmerised by how peaceful it all looked. It was so easy to picture us out there—Thomas at the helm, the wind in our hair, the gentle rocking of the boat beneath us. This is what I want, I thought. This is what I can imagine us doing for years to come.

Beside me, Thomas leaned back in his chair, his espresso cup resting lightly in his hand. He seemed utterly content, the corners of his lips curved in the smallest of smiles. As if sensing my thoughts, he reached over and took my hand in his, his thumb tracing slow circles against my skin.

Years passed since we met for the first time back in 2001, on a cold, wet February evening during Basler Fasnacht. I could still remember the day so clearly; the streets were alive with music and masked figures, and I ducked into Papa Joe's pub to escape the drizzle. That was where I had seen him for the first time—those striking blue eyes that I had grown to love so much. We struck up a conversation at the bar, and something just clicked. We got married just a few years later and started a life in a home at the German border. It was all I could have ever asked for.

With Thomas, it was easy to get caught up in our little world. Moments like these made all my worries disappear—at least for a while. Then, another little voice spoke up in my mind. What about the cost? Seventy thousand francs was a reasonable amount for a boat of that size and condition, yet it still represented a significant investment. Moreover, there were the maintenance costs, the docking fees, and the unexpected repairs that always seemed to arise with boats, just as with cars. Would this truly bring us joy, or would it become another source of stress?

"Your coffee is getting cold," Thomas pointed out, pulling me from my thoughts. I blinked, then finally wrapped my hands around the warm ceramic cup, bringing it to my lips for a long, contemplative sip. The rich, slightly bitter taste grounded me, reminding me of something I had promised myself after the accident: enjoy the moment, don't waste time fretting about the future.

I decided not to bring the boat up. Instead, I would express just how much I enjoyed the idea of staying here. That much was true. Portalban was where anyone would be fortunate to linger, which would be much simpler if we had a boat.

"It's beautiful. The view..." I said, taking yet another sip of my coffee. Thomas gave me a slight nod.

"It is, indeed. I'm glad we've chosen to come here."

That decision was quite spontaneous. One moment, I was working as a detective—a bloody good one, too—and the next, my life was turned upside down when I was involved in a car crash. The doctors informed me I was fortunate to have survived, but the damage was permanent. The limp was evident. The pain became more intense. My walking had become slower. While I was grateful to be alive, I understood that the accident signified the end of my career as I knew it. It broke my heart.