Breaking the Grid

Land

The journey to Ibiza had gone by faster than expected. Between the sun, the ocean breeze, and the constant chaos of having seven people on board, there had never been a dull moment.

Before we left Monaco, I had invited Charles and Alex (his girlfriend) to have dinner with us. It felt right—bringing different parts of my world together, mixing my friendships with Kyra's. She fit so well into my universe now, seamlessly blending in without hesitation. She no longer shied away when I talked to my friends, no longer seemed hesitant when I was too demonstrative in front of hers.

It had taken time, but she was fully here. Fully mine.

One of the best parts of the trip so far had been finding Milo that night.

Kyra and I had talked about it before leaving, and we decided—without much hesitation—that we were bringing him with us on the boat.

He was still small. Too small to leave behind for too long. And I hated the thought of him alone while we were here, soaking in the sun.

But maybe, just maybe, I should have actually planned for it.

Or at the very least, adapted the yacht for him. Because holy hell—it had been chaotic.

Between Milo skidding across the floors, nearly knocking over drinks, getting into places he definitely shouldn't have, and Kyra not helping at all—it was a miracle we made it through those first few days without disaster.

But somehow, we did.

Now, after three days at sea, we had finally arrived in Ibiza.

Three days already filled with laughter, cocktails, and sun.

I couldn't lie—the yacht had been too expensive. An obscene amount of money. But no one could deny how incredible it was. Not just in size, but in functionality. Every part of it was perfect. The space, the comfort, the damn views.

And the mornings?

The mornings had been my favorite part.

Every morning, I woke up before Kyra. The sun would hit my face through the large bay window of our room, the golden light spilling over the sheets, the sea stretching endlessly outside. And every morning, without fail, Kyra was still asleep beside me, her head buried into my neck, her breath warm against my skin, sending chills down my spine.

Every morning, I stayed there a little longer than necessary, letting myself enjoy the feeling before slipping out of bed.

The days had been anything but boring.

With seven people on board, there was always something happening. Laughter, music, teasing, someone making a drink, someone nearly falling overboard (cough Charlie).

And as promised, Kyra and I weren't always stuck together.

But even when we weren't near each other, our eyes found each other often.

Like magnets.

No matter where we were, no matter who we were talking to, I'd catch her looking at me, or she'd catch me looking at her.

And in those moments, when our gazes locked across the deck, across the table, across the damn yacht—

It was like the rest of the world melted away.

I couldn't see myself without her anymore.

Kyra had brought so much happiness and love into my life—more than I had ever expected, more than I even realized I needed. Before her, I had been a daughter defined by my father's legacy, always striving, always proving, always pushing to be something more. But with her, I was just Blair.