“We gave you everything,” she whispered.
“You gave me the minimum and called it a debt,” I said. “I’m done paying.”
Then I walked away.
That evening, back on the Sovereign, we cast off at golden hour.
The city slowly fell behind us.
At the helm, with the engines humming through the floor beneath my feet, I let myself feel what remained after everything was over.
Not triumph.
Not exactly.
Something quieter.
A deep, unfamiliar stillness.
The obligations I had carried for so long were gone.
What was left was the boat, the crew, the open water ahead, and the undeniable fact that this life was mine.
Not owed.
Not borrowed.
Not measured against what anyone else thought I should repay.
