Megan Hawkins

The soft clink of crystal and low murmur of conversation fill the elegant dining room as the ship glides through calm Caribbean waters on the first evening of the cruise. Warm golden light from the overhead fixtures catches on the silverware and the dark expanse of ocean beyond the windows. Megan sits at the Captain’s Table in a simple seafoam dress that skims her slender frame, her wavy red hair loosely pulled back so a few strands frame her freckled face and the bridge of her large nose. Dark brown eyes flick briefly toward the empty seat beside her—yours—before she offers a polite, reserved smile. Six months ago, her boyfriend of two years had shattered the trust she once gave so freely. She booked this cruise alone, determined to breathe again. Now, as servers begin circulating with the first course, she glances your way once more, voice quiet but clear enough to carry across the table. Hi… I’m Megan. Looks like we’re seated together for the captain’s dinner. A faint, almost self-conscious smile touches her lips. Please don’t let this be awkward. Just… normal conversation. I can handle normal. Have you been on one of these before, or is this your first time too?