Lost at Sea || Shawmila [Completed]

it always leads to you in my hometown

When Shawn crossed the threshold of his home again, the air outside was still chilly, but the snow had melted, and the first spring buds had begun to peek from the tree branches. More than a month had passed since he had woken up in a hospital room, and he had finally been discharged. In that span of time, which for many might not have seemed so long, but to him, it had felt like an eternity, many things had happened.

Recovering after the accident had been challenging and sometimes painful. His body had withstood the tide, the cold ocean waters, even pneumonia. It had taken time and numerous injections to return him from looking like a Victorian child on his deathbed. Paradoxically, the greatest pain he had ever felt, the bleeding wound to his heart that Camila's departure had inflicted like a stab, had healed with a simple word: "Yes."

If he was being honest, he didn't know what had come over him when he had asked Camila to marry him. He never would have thought to do it in a hospital bed and without a ring—heck, he hadn't even thought he would ever be able to, considering how things had gone between them. Yet there she was in his arms, telling him she loved him, crying for him, thanking the heavens for having listened to her prayers. Camila had cried, a broken yet relieved cry, oscillating between disbelief in the moment and the certainty she had shown during the preceding weeks.

To Shawn, it had seemed like a mirage. Camila had been the last image in his head before everything turned dark. Her smile, her soft skin, her scent were what had gracefully accompanied him towards the abyss. Now he knew they were also what had brought him back.

When he had asked her to marry him, he hadn't worried about getting a refusal, about her saying she was engaged to a Hollywood actor or some other excuse. Waiting for her answer, time had simply stopped. He felt the rhythmic beat of his beloved's heart against his own chest, their gazes met, and without even saying a word, an understanding dialogue arose between them. In their pupils, memories of their love story slid like slides on a carousel, and both realized that, despite farewells and periods of separation, their love had never truly faded. It had continued to shine like a lantern in the long winter nights, a flickering flame that appeared weak but had weathered the storms and had ultimately guided them to a meeting point. Camila's answer to his question had been a simple verbal confirmation of what she had already promised him with that look.

He wasn't surprised to see her enter the same hospital room every morning. She had spent every possible moment with him, often bringing him meals she had cooked herself and taking him for short walks in the hospital corridors. Eventually, Shawn had been discharged and had left that dreadful place with Peggy's myriad recommendations, without looking back.

He was glad to finally be back within the simple yet comfortable walls of his home. Stepping through the entrance, he was greeted by the familiar scent of pine mixed with a more sanitized, but much less familiar, aroma of citrus cleansers. With a quick glance, he noticed the pristine condition the rooms had been left in, and he turned to Camila, raising an eyebrow. She shrugged, a bit embarrassed. "I needed to keep myself busy," was all she said.

He looked around attentively. Although there hadn't been any major changes, he couldn't help but notice that Camila's presence had left traces. The kitchen pantry was stocked with food that he certainly hadn't bought. In the bedroom, neatly folded at the foot of the bed, lay thick wool blankets, and there were a few of Camila's dresses in the closet. The small bathroom cabinet held new scented soaps, face powder, and face cream. Shawn smiled. He and Camila had never lived under the same roof, and now that her belongings were scattered throughout the routines of his own home, the future seemed promising.

After getting settled, Shawn returned to the living area where he found Camila teetering on her tiptoes with her hands clasped in her lap. She looked around uncomfortably, and Shawn was puzzled. "Why are you standing by the entrance?"

"I don't know where I should go," she admitted with a small voice.

He took her hand and led her to the couch, sitting down beside her. He intertwined their fingers and squeezed tightly, feeling the warmth of her palm melding into his. "I thought we agreed that you would stay here with me. There's no need for you to go back to your parents' place... unless being here with me before the wedding makes you uncomfortable."

"So, you were serious?"

He furrowed his brows, confused. "Of course, I was serious. Weren't you?"

She shook her head and clung to his arm. "No, I was serious too! It's just that we never talked about it again, and I thought your proposal was a delirious whim."

Shawn shook his head, chuckling exasperatedly. "We never learn, do we?" He leaned in and kissed her deeply. "Camila, believe me, my head has never been clearer in my life than in that moment. I love you, I always have, and I want to spend the rest of my days with you, whether they're thousands or just a dozen. So, to be crystal clear once and for all, will you marry me?"

She nodded, returning the intense kiss. "Yes, Shawn, I'll marry you."

The two surrendered to each other's lips for a long while. It had been years since they had shared such passion, and even though they knew they had the rest of their lives to make up for lost time, in that moment they felt the need to affirm their desire. Too many times misunderstandings and unforeseen events had pushed them apart, and now that they knew how fleeting life could be, they wouldn't let their fears control them anymore.

The caresses they exchanged, initially chaste but growing bolder, mixed with whispers and promises. Forehead against forehead, nose against nose, their breaths mingled. With every movement of their bodies, they emitted muffled moans, words of love, broken breaths, and wet kisses.

Eventually, Camila reassured Shawn that she wouldn't be returning to her parents' home. Her place was by his side, in his bed, under the same roof. They knew there would be talk about them. The gossipmongers would chatter about their relationship outside of marriage, but neither of them cared. The urgency to seal their love with a promise eventually led them to marry. Not even a month later, in the small chapel overlooking the coast, Shawn and Camila exchanged rings in front of the eyes of a few close family and friends.

Their life in Harbor Cove was long and happy. Camila discovered she didn't have to give up anything: her notebook, periodically flooded with the ink of her pen, were sent to publishers. Visits to New York became rare and brief, and her dream of living a simple, private life in the small Maine town where she grew up was no longer threatened. Her husband, the most caring and patient man she had ever known, continued to inspire her, providing not only an endless stream of material for her poetry but also the happy family she had ever dreamed.

The End