I clicked into the post, then another—faces I knew. Flora’s tight-lipped smile. Her husband Tom, they’re twins. Ofully, my mother-in-law, holding a mimosa. Lyle’s younger cousin with his fiancée. Everyone except me. There was a family group chat: Preston Legacy Voyagers. Lyall had added me a few years ago, then quietly removed me after an incident with a dinner seating chart. Long story.

I checked anyway. No chat, no messages, not a single email about the trip. I stared at my phone, the coffee cooling beside me. My pulse wasn’t racing. Not exactly. It was something worse. Stillness. A sinking confirmation that this wasn’t a mistake. It was deliberate.

That afternoon, while rinsing out a glass in the kitchen sink, my phone buzzed with a message from Valora. But it wasn’t meant for me. It was a screenshot of a group text. A photo of the finalized cabin assignments under portside guest rooms. A name had been crossed out. Mine. Next to it, confirmed for Belle. Belle. Valora’s yoga instructor. The one who’d once asked me if I was Lyall’s assistant. The next message was a voice note. Valora’s voice mid-laugh. “Well, at least the energy on board won’t be so tight this year.” Tight.