"Insurance?"
"Protection against financial loss. If my boat sinks or I'm injured diving, insurance covers the expenses. But it's costly, and I've fallen behind on payments."
"How much do you need?"
His question catches me off guard. "What do you mean?"
"To resolve these problems. What amount would relieve the pressure you're under?"
I stare at him. "Cyreus, you can't just throw money at this. Even if you had money, which... Do you have money?"
"I have access to considerable wealth. Salvage from wrecks your people can't reach, precious metals and gems scattered across the ocean floor." He moves closer, resting his arms on the platform. "I could easily eliminate your financial troubles."
"That's not how this works."
"Why not?"
"Because I need to earn my own living, not have it handed to me. Because accepting your money would create a dependency that would fundamentally alter our relationship." I run my fingers through damp hair. "Because I've spent twenty years building my reputation as someone who handles her own problems."
His expression shifts to bewilderment. "If I can provide for you, why choose to struggle?"
"Because providing for myself is core to my identity. Because my work matters beyond the income it generates." I lean forward, trying to help him understand. "Cyreus, if you solved all my problems with underwater treasure, what would I do? Sit around waiting for your visits?"
"You could explore the ocean with me. See parts of your world no human has witnessed. Learn about my people, my culture..."
"And surrender everything that makes me who I am."
The words hang between us, revealing the first real crack in our perfect connection. He's offering what he thinks I need, and I'm rejecting it because it's not what I want.
"I don't understand," he says finally. "In my culture, when mates bond, they share everything—resources, responsibilities, survival itself. Why choose hardship when comfort is available?"
"Because the hardship is mine. Because I've built something here, even if it's precarious. Because being rescued isn't the same as being loved."
"You think I'm trying to rescue you?"
"Aren't you?" I study his expression. "You saved me from drowning, then offered to solve my problems with treasure. That's not a partnership, Cyreus. That's... caring for a pet."
He recoils as if struck. "That wasn't my intention."
"I know. But that's how it feels." I soften my tone, touching his hand. "I don't need you to fix my life. I need you to be part of it—problems and all."
"Even if those problems threaten what we're building?"
"Even then." I squeeze his fingers. "Because what we're building must be strong enough to withstand real life, or it's not worth having."
He remains quiet, processing my words. When he speaks again, his voice is measured.
"Your culture values independence differently than mine."
"Yes. And that's something we'll need to navigate." I stand, pulling my feet from the water. "Right now, though, I need to return to harbor and address the insurance situation. And check in with Fergus before he organizes a search party."
"Of course." Disappointment colors his voice, creating distance that wasn't there before.
"Cyreus." I wait until he meets my gaze. "This doesn't change how I feel about you. But it means we need to learn how to love each other without losing ourselves in the process."
"And if we can't?"
The question cuts deeper than he likely intended. "Then we'll find another solution. But I won't give up on us just because it's complicated."