Page 1

ONE

ISOLDE

I solde Morgan brushed her blonde hair from her face and peered through the microscope one last time.

The plankton samples she had collected earlier that week were thriving.

She made a final note in her research journal after observing their tiny bodies for several minutes.

She scanned the meticulous handwriting before closing the leather-bound book with a satisfying thump.

"Heading out for once, Dr. Morgan?" Dr. Patel glanced up from his station across the lab.

"Just getting a head start on the weekend," Isolde muttered.

"That's right—big birthday tomorrow, isn't it? The big three-o!" He smiled. "Any plans with friends or family?"

The question stung like saltwater in a paper cut. She forced a bright smile. "Oh, you know, just keeping it low-key."

She tidied her workstation methodically, her heart sinking at the thought of her original plans.

The girls' weekend had fallen apart. Lorelei had another family emergency—the third in as many months since she had gotten married, and her other best friends couldn't get time off work to make the trip to the East Coast either.

Isolde waved good-bye to her colleagues and headed down the corridor toward the breakroom.

The marine research station was quiet on Friday afternoons, most researchers already gone to start their weekends.

Her footsteps echoed on the polished floors as she passed the wall of windows overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

She paused, drawn to the vast expanse of blue stretching to the horizon.

The ocean was serene today. The gentle waves lapped at the shore in a calming rhythm near the research station's edge.

Sunlight danced on the water's surface and created diamonds that sparkled.

Even after all these years, the sight still took her breath away.

"At least you'll never disappoint me," she whispered to the ocean.

Isolde pressed her palm against the cool glass. Through the elevated window, she could make out the marina a mile down the shoreline where her houseboat bobbed gently at the dock. Her sanctuary. Her home.

"Figures I'd be spending the most significant birthday of my adulthood with fish instead of people." A rueful laugh escaped her lips. "Maybe I should adopt a cat. Complete the transformation into a lonely spinster."

She rested her forehead against the glass.

Later tonight, she'd walk the shoreline at sunset, toes in the sand, and try to convince herself this was exactly the life she wanted.

The life where her work consumed everything, where her friends were moving on without her, and where she had inadvertently traded human connection for career advancement.

Something inside her chest twisted. A yearning for... something. Someone. A hand to hold while watching the waves roll in. A shoulder to lean against while counting stars. A voice to answer when she spoke to the ocean.

"Thirty years old and what do I have to show for it?" Isolde sighed, her breath fogging the glass. "A PhD, three published papers, and a drawer full of takeout menus."

She pushed away from the window, squared her shoulders, and continued toward the breakroom to collect her things. The ocean would still be there tomorrow. It always was—constant, patient, and waiting.

As Isolde pushed open the door to the breakroom, a chorus of "Surprise!" jolted her from her melancholy thoughts.

Her boss, Dr. Thompson, the receptionist Mara, and several lab technicians clustered around the table. A small cake with deep blue frosting sat in the middle, complete with thirty tiny candles blazing atop it like miniature beacons.

"Oh!" Isolde's hand flew to her chest, genuine shock momentarily displacing her sadness. "You guys, you didn't have to?—"

"Of course, we did," Mara stepped forward, her practical bob swinging. "We couldn't let your big day go unacknowledged."

A spark of warmth kindled in Isolde's chest as they launched into an enthusiastically off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday." She hadn't expected this—workplace acquaintances remembering her birthday when even her best friends...

No. That wasn't fair. Lorelei had sent a heartfelt text earlier about some crisis with her new husband.

Helena was catering a celebrity wedding in New York.

Seraphina was stuck at the observatory for some rare celestial event.

Thea couldn't get time off from the control tower, and Everly was literally in the middle of an Egyptian desert excavating something "potentially revolutionary. "

They had lives. Important ones. Just like she did.

"Make a wish!" Dr. Thompson gestured to the candles.

Isolde closed her eyes. What did she want? Not to be alone. To feel connected to something. Someone. To matter to the universe.

She blew out the candles in one breath.

"So," Brad from the microbiology lab raised his eyebrows as he handed her a napkin, "hot date tonight to kick off the birthday celebrations?"

Isolde nearly choked on the bite of cake she had just taken. "Um?—"

"Come on," Mara teased, "gorgeous woman like you must have men fighting for your attention."

"The only males fighting for my attention are the specimens in tank four," Isolde laughed, attempting to deflect.

"Wait, is Isolde single?" One of the newer interns whispered too loudly to his colleague.

Heat crawled up Isolde's neck. "Actually, I do have plans tonight."

The words tumbled out before she could stop them. A blatant lie, but preferable to the pitying looks that would follow the admission that she'd be spending her birthday eve alone, watching documentaries in her pajamas.

"Ooh, mysterious." Brad wiggled his eyebrows. "Anyone we know?"

Isolde tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just someone from college." The lie expanded, taking shape. "He's in town for the weekend."

"Well, don't let us keep you then." Dr. Thompson checked his watch. "It's almost five anyway."

Isolde finished her cake quickly, thanked everyone with what she hoped were convincing smiles, and grabbed her purse from her locker.

"Have fun tonight!" Mara called after her.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Brad added with a wink.

Isolde waved, her smile fixed in place until the door swung shut behind her. In the corridor, she exhaled deeply, her shoulders slumping.

The parking lot beckoned—freedom just steps away. As she pushed through the exit doors, the late afternoon sun momentarily blinded her. Isolde fumbled in her purse for sunglasses, dropping her keys in the process.

She bent to retrieve them, her hair falling forward like a curtain.

A strange tingling sensation rippled through her fingertips as she touched the metal keys on the ground.

For a heartbeat, she felt a peculiar connection to the nearby ocean waves crashing against the shore as if they moved in time with her pulse.

Isolde straightened, shaking off the odd feeling.

Probably just the birthday blues playing tricks on her mind.

Isolde slid into her silver Lexus, tossing her purse onto the passenger seat. The car smelled faintly of sea salt and sunscreen that perpetually clung to her skin and hair. She gripped her steering wheel for a moment and took a deep breath.

"Happy almost birthday to me," she murmured.

She pressed the ignition switch, and the engine purred to life, reliable and steady like everything else she chose for her practical life.

The coastal highway stretched before her, the ocean a constant companion.

Isolde drove with the windows down, letting the salt-laden breeze whip her hair into wild tangles she'd regret dealing with later.

Right now, she didn't care. The wind against her skin felt like freedom, the only gift she might receive on her thirtieth birthday.

Her houseboat came into view as she rounded the final bend—a modest but charming blue and white structure bobbing gently at the end of the dock.

Most people found it strange that a professional woman with her credentials chose to live on what was essentially a floating tiny house.

But the constant embrace of water beneath her feet made her feel secure in a way traditional foundations never had.

Isolde pulled into her designated parking space and killed the engine. The sudden silence felt oppressive. No chirping phone with birthday eve messages. No plans. Just the gentle lap of waves against wood and the distant cry of seagulls.

Inside her floating home, Isolde kicked off her shoes and padded barefoot across the polished wooden floors. The compact space was immaculate—everything in its place, minimalist but comfortable. She opened the freezer and pulled out a frozen dinner, staring at the unappetizing image on the box.

"Gourmet birthday feast," she snorted, peeling back the plastic film before shoving it into the microwave.

While her dinner rotated, she changed into worn jean shorts and her favorite threadbare Boston T-shirt from her undergraduate days. The microwave beeped as she finished braiding her hair to keep it from tangling further.

Isolde ate standing at her kitchen counter, gazing out the porthole windows at the darkening sky. The sunset was beginning, painting the horizon in shades of amber and rose. The food tasted like nothing in her mouth.

"This is pathetic." She tossed the half-eaten meal into the trash. "I refuse to spend the last night of my twenties feeling sorry for myself."

Decision made, Isolde slipped on her sandals and grabbed a light jacket. The beach called to her—it always did when she felt lonely. Within minutes, she was walking along the shoreline where the sand stretched empty in both directions.