Morning arrived in Bora Bora without ceremony.
There was no alarm, no jolt of obligation pulling the day into motion. Instead, the sun rose slowly, spilling pale gold across the lagoon, illuminating the water beneath the bungalow in shifting patterns of blue and green. The tide lapped softly against the stilts below, rhythmic and patient, as if the island itself understood time differently-unconcerned with schedules, indifferent to urgency.
Astor Nicholas Princeton woke before the sun had fully cleared the horizon.
He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling of the lounge room, listening to the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the distant murmur of water outside. For a brief second-no more than that-he forgot where he was. Then the weight of awareness settled in.
Bora Bora. Honeymoon. Marriage.
He exhaled slowly, swung his legs off the daybed, and reached for his laptop.
By the time Esther stirred in the master suite, Astor was already dressed in lightweight slacks and a crisp shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. He sat on the edge of the bed in the lounge, typing with quiet efficiency, his posture straight, his expression focused. Numbers filled the screen. Projections, timelines, risk assessments.
The merger couldn't afford delay.
He worked for nearly an hour before moving outside. The deck was cool beneath his bare feet, the air still fresh before the heat of the day set in. He positioned himself at the small outdoor table overlooking the lagoon, laptop open, phone beside it. From this angle, the view was extraordinary-endless water, sky melting into sea.
Astor barely noticed.
Inside the master suite, Esther woke more slowly.
The first thing she registered was the absence of warmth beside her.
She opened her eyes to the soft light filtering through the sheer curtains, illuminating the canopy bed and the petals she had brushed onto the floor the night before. The room smelled faintly of frangipani and salt. For a moment, she allowed herself to forget-to imagine that she was alone here by choice, that this solitude was intentional.
Then reality crept back in.
She reached for her phone, habit more than need, and immediately winced at the flood of notifications waiting for her. Missed emails. Messages marked urgent. Kirkson Corp didn't pause for honeymoons any more than Princeton Enterprises did.
She scrolled through quickly, her stomach tightening.
A supplier delay. A client pressing for revised terms. A reminder about an upcoming deadline she had hoped-foolishly-might resolve itself without her intervention.
So this is it, she thought. A marriage of silence and spreadsheets.
She sat up slowly, pushing the covers aside, and checked the time. Still early. The day stretched ahead of her, long and undefined.
After showering and dressing in a light sundress, Esther stepped quietly into the living area. She paused at the threshold, watching Astor through the open doors.
He sat with his back straight, eyes fixed on the screen, fingers moving steadily. The breeze stirred the papers beside him, lifting the corner of a printed document. His coffee sat untouched, growing cold.
He looked like he belonged there-contained, controlled, absorbed.
She wondered, not for the first time, whether she was simply an inconvenience in his life. A necessary variable. A contract with a human face.
She stepped outside.
"Good morning," she said softly.
Astor looked up, surprised for half a second before smoothing his expression. "Morning."
There was a pause. A beat too long.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked.
"Well enough," she replied. "You?"
"Productive," he said, which was not an answer.
They stood there, facing the lagoon instead of each other.
Esther wrapped her arms around herself, more for grounding than warmth. "Another beautiful day."
"Yes," Astor agreed. "The weather here is remarkably consistent."
She almost laughed at that-at how even paradise became data in his hands.
She considered saying more. Considered pushing past the polite surface, asking something real. But the memory of the previous day-the separate rooms, the closed door, the carefully maintained distance-pressed heavily against her resolve.
Should I try again? she wondered. Or should I accept that this is what our marriage looks like?
Astor glanced at his watch. "I have a call in ten minutes."
Of course you do, she thought.
"I'll leave you to it," she said, forcing a smile that felt brittle even to her own face.
She retreated inside, her footsteps soft against the wooden floor.
Another morning of silence.
---
The hours unfolded in parallel but separate lines.
Astor remained on the deck or in the small office space provided by the resort, moving seamlessly from call to call. New York. London. Singapore. The time zones blurred together, his voice steady as he discussed projections and strategies. He was in his element-precise, composed, effective.
When the sun climbed higher, he shifted his chair slightly to avoid the glare, adjusted the umbrella overhead, and continued working.
Esther answered emails from Kirkson Corp while sitting at the small dining table, her laptop balanced between a cup of untouched coffee and a plate of tropical fruit. She drafted responses carefully, weighing each word, each promise. Her father had hoped this marriage would bring stability, and it had-but at the cost of something far more personal.
When the last urgent message was sent, she closed her laptop and stared at the screen for a long moment before pushing it away.
She needed air.
The resort offered more activities than she could possibly exhaust-snorkeling, hiking, paddleboarding, guided tours. She chose snorkeling first, slipping into the warm water just off the deck, the lagoon welcoming her like an embrace.
Beneath the surface, the world transformed.
Fish darted past in flashes of color. Coral formations stretched beneath her, intricate and alive. For a while, the weight on her chest eased. Down here, there were no expectations, no obligations. Just movement and breath and beauty.
When she surfaced, floating on her back, the sun warmed her face. She closed her eyes and let the water carry her.
This is where we're supposed to be happy, she thought. Isn't it?
Later, she hiked one of the trails on the main island, her legs aching pleasantly as she climbed. The path wound through dense greenery, the air heavy with humidity and birdsong. At the summit, the view stole her breath-the lagoon spread out below like a living jewel, shifting shades as clouds drifted overhead.
She wanted to share it.
She reached for her phone, thumb hovering over Sophia's name.
No signal.
She tried again. Nothing.
The isolation hit harder than she expected. Here she was, surrounded by unparalleled beauty, and yet she felt profoundly alone.
What if something goes wrong at Kirkson Corp while I'm here? she worried. What if I'm not enough to keep everything afloat?
She sat on a rock and let the anxiety wash over her, pressing her palms into her knees, breathing slowly until the panic dulled.
Back at the bungalow, Astor ended his last call of the afternoon and leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes, exhaustion creeping in despite his efforts to ignore it.
He glanced toward the master suite door.
Still closed.
He told himself he was doing the right thing. That distance now was better than forced closeness. That professionalism, even in marriage, had its merits.
And yet-
He found himself listening for sounds he hadn't realized he was missing. Her footsteps. Her voice. Laughter.
He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts, and returned to his work.
---
By evening, they reconvened without discussion.
Esther emerged from the bedroom in a simple white dress, her hair damp from a shower, falling loose around her shoulders. Astor had changed into a fresh shirt, sleeves rolled, expression composed.
"Dinner?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied.
They walked together to the restaurant, side by side but not touching. The boardwalk glowed softly underfoot, torches flickering in the growing dusk. Couples passed them, hands intertwined, voices low and intimate.
They sat across from each other at a candlelit table.
"How was your day?" Astor asked.
She considered telling him everything. The snorkeling. The hike. The loneliness. The fear. The way she had almost cried at the summit because the view was too beautiful to experience alone.
"It was fine," she said instead. "Yours?"
"Busy," he replied.
They ate in silence, punctuated only by the clink of silverware and the distant sound of waves.
Back at the bungalow, they paused in the living area.
"Goodnight, Esther," Astor said.
"Goodnight, Astor."
Separate rooms. Separate thoughts.
As Esther lay awake, staring at the ceiling, she wondered how long silence could last before it became permanent.
Outside, the lagoon glowed faintly under the moonlight, indifferent to human distance, endlessly patient.
And somewhere in the quiet space between two closed doors, a marriage hovered-unspoken, unresolved, waiting.