The next few hours passed in a strange kind of daze. We ate a few raw eggs from the cliff along with some raw clams.

Winter rummaged through his carry-on bag and found his brush and hair mousse. He combed his hair and styled it into something more presentable, more akin to what he used to wear while working at DevApp. Here on the island, it was usually a loose ponytail, not so tightly slicked back.

There was this odd silence between us as I sat there, observing him style his hair.

It was like we both sensed that a chapter of our lives was closing, that we were about to return to the dull reality waiting for us. And I guess that was kind of a shock.

So many things were nagging at me, but I didn't have the focus required to start a more constructive conversation; my mind was buzzing with emotions. Deep down, I’d probably started to believe we’d never leave this island, staying as permanent residents here, cut off from the rest of the world.

And now, all of a sudden, the thought that by tomorrow I wouldn’t be some stranded Robinson Crusoe, but just another DevApp employee again; the boss’s son, a graphic designer in Winter’s department. It all felt so surreal. Like someone was about to yank me out of the pages of an adventure novel and toss me back into a gray, ordinary life.

Winter seemed just as lost in thought. His expression was calm, maybe even a little wistful. Had he, too, started to grow used to the idea of staying here? Had he, in some strange way… started to like it? From what I could sense, that was the case.

We’d been gone for nearly three weeks. A huge unknown was waiting for us out there.

I had no real sense of time, maybe two hours passed, maybe five. I couldn’t focus enough to keep track.

We stayed close to where the drone had spotted us, wrapped in blankets, just sitting still and waiting, staring blankly in the sky.

There was only one thing I ended up bringing up, and that was my pheromone masking spray.

For some reason I couldn’t quite explain, I said,

"Maybe we should spray each other? Whatever happened on the island was so insane, maybe we shouldn’t, like… announce it to the world right away."

It came out way weirder than I meant. Because seriously—why hide anything, unless something truly remarkable had happened to us… physically?

In a way, I was pointing out that something had changed, especially in Winter. I guess I just wanted to give him time to adjust before the world threw all the uncomfortable questions at him. And I was pretty sure that would happen sooner rather than later.

Winter didn’t say anything. He just took the spray and applied it generously. I did the same.

Then, from the south, the helicopter came.

Its dark silhouette in the sky made us freeze for a solid minute before we snapped out of it and ran toward a more open area.

This part of the island mostly had gentle slopes, but near the wetlands, the terrain was unstable. Instead of landing, the helicopter dropped a rope ladder for us. We both climbed up.

The noise was deafening and disorienting. Climbing while dangling in the air, feeling the chopper sway slightly, did something weird to me, emotionally. Something about being inside a flying machine again… Ugh!

A Japanese crew handed us headsets right away, and with them came a doctor who spoke good English. He asked how we were feeling, and we assured him we were fine, that we’d had food and shelter on the island.

The flight back passed in silence. Not that we could’ve talked anyway, it was too loud. So we just stared out the windows, watching the vast ocean roll beneath us.

We saw scattered islands, some with volcanic peaks rising just like ours… and then, finally—the coast of Japan.

The whole flight wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience for me. My plane crash trauma started bubbling back up. But I knew I had to keep it together. No one cared about that, they were just doing their jobs.

By the time we landed, it was well into the afternoon. It looked like we were on a military airstrip. The moment we stepped off the helicopter, a few officials came and informed us that we were about to be sent back to the States. The airline was already arranging a special plane for us.

Again, the word ‘plane’ sounded really bad in my head, but I forced myself to just nod.

We were led into a building where a team of medical staff ran a series of tests. They didn’t say much, but gave us a clean bill of health.

When the officials drove us to the airport, we barely had time to step out of the car before we were swarmed.

The press!

Flashes went off. Voices shouted questions.

That’s when it really hit me: our rescue had become a full-blown media sensation. People must’ve been struggling to make sense of it, especially since the whole world most likely believed the plane had exploded midair.

We didn’t answer any questions. The airport staff escorting us quickly rushed us onto the plane.

But what really shocked me was what we found onboard.

The moment we stepped in, we were met by four people—two psychologists and two airline officials.

The representatives looked more like internal security investigators employed by the airline. Very stern and serious.

They took seats across from us.

First, they offered a formal apology on behalf of the airline owner for not continuing the search and rescue operation. They also explained that the plane had crashed into the sea almost 400 miles northeast of the island.

One of them said they would like to talk to us separately to gather more information from two different perspectives.

That’s when it hit me, Winter and I had never actually talked about what version of events we were going to tell them. So I decided to stick to the truth.

One psychologist and one airline rep sat with me. The second took Winter to the other side of the cabin to question him separately.

Being split up like that made me feel… uneasy. I searched Winter’s eyes, and he gave me a small nod, like he was saying, ‘It’s okay’.

Then we sat down.

I was the first to speak. "How the hell did you end up finding us?"

The airline official explained that the rescue effort had been restarted at the request of the Lowen family. They’d contacted Japanese authorities and offered to fund another drone search.

They chose to focus first on the island where the volcano had erupted. Satellite imagery had picked it up, and they didn’t want to risk us getting killed by the eruption or anything that came after it, in case we were on that particular island.

I just sat there, kind of stunned. In a weird way… the volcano had saved us for the second time.

It had kept us alive, first by giving us a warm cave and water, then by keeping the wetlands alive and thriving, and finally, by making enough noise to draw the rescuers in.

So maybe… it wasn’t the worst thing after all.

But hearing it all left me puzzled. There was something off about it. Why would they restart the rescue operation after three weeks? I tried to dig deeper, but the official told me he had no additional information.

And then… the questioning began.

First, they asked about what happened on the plane, every detail I could recall, then about what transpired after the explosion.

I told them I blacked out and woke up on the island with a sprained ankle.

It was obvious they were doubtful about it, their eyes full of suspicion, their eyebrows raised.

Then, the psychologist asked if I was still in pain because of the foot injury. A little startled, I told him, that it hadn’t been that serious, hoping he wouldn’t dig into it any deeper. He tried, but I downplayed it, saying it was probably just a strained tendon, not a torn one.

Then the airline official jumped in with a flood of questions.

How did we survive on the island? Did someone bring us food, or did we find it ourselves? How? Where did we live? Had we explored the whole island? Had we seen any other drones, helicopters, or ships?

He had a long list, occasionally glancing down at a tablet as he ticked them off one by one.

Then the psychologist jumped back in.

He asked how I was feeling. And in a moment of thoughtless honesty, I admitted that while I was glad to be going home, part of me was also nervous, wondering what, exactly, would be waiting for me there. After all, I’d been gone for three weeks.

He nodded, feigning understanding. Then came a whole string of new questions, but this time about Winter.

How had Winter helped me survive? How had I helped him?

I answered truthfully, but carefully avoided anything about the physical side of our relationship. I explained how, because of my ankle, at first, Winter had been the one gathering food. But later, when he grew too weak, I had to go out looking for him instead.

That’s when the psychologist switched gears.

He started talking about how extreme situations can create emotional dependency, how, in survival scenarios, people can develop unusually tight bonds, fueled by their reliance on each other.

He emphasized that I didn’t really know the ‘everyday’ Winter. That what I saw on the island was a version shaped by trauma and isolation—an extreme one.

I just sat there and listened as he went on and on, saying how intense gratitude could easily be mistaken for something deeper, that suffering could cloud your perception of what actually happened.

What was going on?

Then something dawned on me. When the drone had hovered above us, I’d kissed Winter.

Had my father seen that?

Had it scared him?

Blinking, I stared at the guy, trying to figure out what this was really about. It all sounded way too specific, like the psychologist was deliberately targeting the possibility that I’d developed feelings for Winter.

"Did my father send you?" I asked at one point, feeling like I was about to burst.

He dodged the question, saying something vague about how the details of his contract were classified and just… not relevant at the moment. He told me we still had a few things to discuss and that I should try to focus.

It felt endless.

Nodding absently, I sat there, my eyes drifting across the cabin toward Winter, who was clearly going through a version of the same interrogation. A few times, our eyes met. His expression had changed, he looked more distant now, like he’d withdrawn behind some kind of quiet, detached wall.

Was he feeling the same way I was? Or had he been presented with a different angle in his conversation—one more directly shaped by my father, who, I could easily imagine, wouldn’t be thrilled about the idea of us being together.

There was even a moment when I kind of tuned out the psychologist’s voice and tuned in to the voice of the other person talking to Winter. And indeed, I was able to hear pieces, something like, "The responsibility for your employee could influence that…" and: "If it were another employee, it would take a similar course…"

Soon I was more and more convinced that my father had planted these people, to control the narrative, to have the psychologist downplay whatever had happened between us.

Eventually, I told them I wanted a break.

But the psychologist said we still needed to go over a few more things.

Feeling my patience thinning, I listened as he started asking about my job, what my work situation had been like before the crash, how I thought it might change afterward. He already knew I didn’t want to work there! How interesting. He also brought up my professional relationship with Winter, how much contact we had as director and employee.

Then came the questions about the press.

Was I afraid of the media? Worried they’d dig into my personal life? Was I planning on giving interviews?

At one point, he even asked, "Are you prepared for the possibility that the media might romanticize this situation? That they might try to turn it into a love story shaped by tragedy? Something that sells?"

When I didn’t respond, he added,

"You know… ‘Boss and Employee—Stranded on an Island’ kind of sounds like the setup for a romance."

He raised his eyebrows slightly, seemingly amused, watching me carefully, like he was testing my reaction. Another good way to downplay what we had, to ridicule it as just potential media clickbait, nothing to be taken seriously, a silly thing.

I was stunned by how carefully worded everything was, how perfectly it poked at all the areas that would naturally cause worry. It was all so… intentional.

Eventually, I gave up and just let him talk.

He went on for what felt like hours. At one point, he even told me about other crashes where people had been stranded in the wild, how those situations had unfolded. He just kept going, filling the air with more and more examples, more and more explanations, until I was too mentally exhausted to care.

Finally, he let me rest.

There was still no chance to speak to Winter. Two staff members kept us firmly separated, like it was their full-time job.

So I lay down on a row of seats in the corner of the cabin and drifted off—not because I was comfortable, but because my brain just… shut down. Drowned in everything.

I had this overwhelming need to be alone with Winter. Just for a moment. Somewhere quiet, where we could talk. Where I could hold him, and share my suspicions about the whole situation.

But with all these people around, turning us into public figures overnight, and with exhaustion pressing down on me, I just didn’t have the energy to push through the wall of handlers and the mental confusion they were throwing at me.

So I curled up and fell asleep.

When I woke, daylight was streaming in through the windows, which meant we had to be flying over the U.S. by now.

Someone must’ve been watching me, because as soon as I stirred, one of the staff appeared with a tray of food.

That’s when I saw Winter, still asleep on the other side of the cabin.

I ate in a fog, barely able to believe I’d actually left the island.

It all felt like part of the same dream. Any second now, I’d wake up back on the mattress, in the cave, surrounded by the sound of the stream. The rescue, the press, the flight, it would all dissolve like it had never happened.

On top of it all, the food tasted strange; so salty and processed that I barely ate anything.

Then the plane began to descend, and my heartbeat picked up. That was also when Winter finally woke up. Our eyes met. His face was calm, almost indifferent.

When he didn’t react to the smile I gave him, a chill ran down my spine. He didn’t even respond to my second glance.

But there was still this quasi-telepathic connection: I could sense him. And I knew he was very stressed, tense like an overstretched string.

When we landed, and I unbuckled my seatbelt, I moved to go to him, but two employees gently grabbed my elbows, stopping me.

"This way, please. Security reasons," one of them murmured.

And just like that, everyone began filing toward the exits, while Winter was led to a different one.

It felt off. Security reasons? Were they trying to protect us from the press? Or were they deliberately keeping us apart?

"Winter!" I called out, my voice desperate.

He turned his face toward me. He was absolutely pale and still… What the hell was going on?

But I couldn’t even dwell on that, because they nearly pushed me out of the plane.

Then the chaos hit full force.

We were rushed through the terminal into a designated area where reporters were waiting. We passed quickly, but I could still hear them shouting questions, though I didn’t register the words.

And then, across the hall behind metal barricades, I saw two groups of people.

For the first time since we left the island, something shifted in me. I felt like I was waking up.

Those people standing there…

That was my family.

All of them, it seemed. For a moment, I just froze, stunned. Then my dad jumped the barrier and ran straight toward me.

That’s also when I felt the sting behind my eyes. And when I finally wrapped my arms around him, I couldn’t hold it back anymore. Relief and joy rushed through me all at once, the realization finally sinking in. I was home. And someone still cared.

Over his shoulder, I spotted the other group, a larger one. Winter’s family.

His dad did the exact same thing, jumping over the barrier and running straight to Winter, sobbing almost hysterically.

Of course, I only assumed it was his dad, judging by his platinum hair and the same sweet pout of the lips. Just like that, we were both pulled into the arms of our families, held tight, with tears all around.

And of course, I saw my father. His face looked… well, kinda emotional, in a way I wasn’t used to seeing. He held me in a firm embrace. And when I glanced at my brother, I was shocked to see tears in his eyes too. Maybe he didn’t mind not being the sole heir after all. Or maybe he was crying because he wasn’t the only one anymore? With Vren, you could never really tell.

As I was passed between cousins and uncles, I kept looking over at Winter. He was surrounded by his brothers, just like I was enveloped by mine.

And then, out of nowhere, a pair of strong arms pushed through my relatives, parting them for—

Blue.

He hated hugs, but just this once, I had to. I launched myself at him and wrapped him in a tight hug, lifting him off the ground; all my moves under the keen observation of his new bodyguard.

"Blue!"

His face lit up, happy, but with that usual grumpy edge.

"Put me down, Sariel. I’m not a child to be carried," he grumbled. Then he added, a little softer, "I’m glad to see you, you pain in the ass. You scared the hell out of all of us."

"I scared the hell out of myself. But it’s good to see you too, you grumpy old man."

That made him frown, and a mischievous glint sparked in his eyes, one that promised revenge later.

Then came the flood of questions from everyone else. Even Uncle Victor and Uncle Sebastien joined in, and Victor made me promise that his magazine, The East Times, would get first rights to the interview.

I took the opportunity to thank him for all the camping trips we’d been on together, because they had definitely given me a lot of knowledge that turned out to be useful.

My cousins asked how we’d survived and were amazed when I mentioned the hot springs on the island. They couldn’t believe our luck.

But then, as I was answering, I caught sight of my father stepping away from the crowd, walking toward Winter’s family, and I strained to hear him over all the noise.

A bit shocked, I watched as he briefly shook Winter’s hand… almost coldly. And then did something completely uncharacteristic, he bowed slightly to Winter’s dad.

"Thank you for not giving up," my father said. "I’m sorry I lost faith. I owe you."

"The only thing that matters is that they’re safe now," the blond omega replied, his face streaked with tears.

Then he turned to the side and pressed a firm kiss to Winter’s cheek.

After another minute of chaotic questions, back pats, congratulations, and joyful exclamations over my miraculous survival, one more person made his way through the crowd. It was Winter’s dad again.

Unexpectedly, he pulled me into a firm hug and whispered in my ear, "Thank you for saving Winter’s life. I know what you did in the cave, I saw it. You’re a true hero, Sariel."

A wave of emotion and surprise hit me so hard I didn’t have time to react before he disappeared back into the crowd, melting away among the people as if he’d never been there.

How could his dad know? I had no idea. It was all just shock and confusion, swirling and swallowing me, leaving me feeling completely unmoored.

I tried to catch sight of Winter again, but only glimpsed him turning and walking away, led off by his family.

I had so hoped to meet his gaze, but… he didn’t look at me, engaged in conversation with Skye.

And I was pulled along with my family.

I didn’t understand.

What had changed? Now, back on solid ground, was Winter done with me?

But… we were True Mates!

Too broken and disoriented to do anything, I felt my parents' hands take me by the arms and guide me toward the parking lot…

Every step hurt .