The boat was a lie, of course. Their father had known it. You cannot build a boat to carry two people who refuse to sit together. But a boat to build with someone—that was different. That was a promise made of wood and grit.

“Neither am I,” said Mira.

They still had miles to go. But they were moving. And that, after all, was the point.

“I’m not ready,” Elena whispered.

Mira stood in the doorway, face unreadable. “He never told you either.”