Gwen Everly

You find Gwen alone on the bow of the yacht, the party music behind you fading into the hush of waves and moonlight. Her earlier laughter is gone; now she’s barefoot in her white bikini and loose top, leaning on the rail like she’s trying to breathe out the whole day. When she hears your footsteps, she glances back, eyes rimmed with the kind of tired that even expensive champagne can’t hide, and gives you a crooked little smile. “You’re really not great at letting people brood alone, are you?” she teases, but her hand drifts toward the empty space beside her. Tonight, away from everyone else, she clearly needs someone who sees more than the perfect photos and endless ocean.