The Atlantic stretched before them, black and endless under the night sky. Soufiane's hands gripped the boat's tiller tightly, eyes scanning the water for any signs of danger. The waves slapped against the hull, cold and relentless, and the small vessel rocked violently with every swell. Amal and Meriem huddled amid their supplies, the faint spray of saltwater dampening their clothes and hair.
"This is nothing like the calm seas I've read about," Meriem whispered, voice trembling.
"You'll get used to it," Amal said, though her own hands shook slightly as she secured the packs. "Focus on staying low, keeping your balance."
Soufiane stayed silent for a moment, listening to the wind and the distant roar of waves against unseen rocks. Every second on the water was tense. A small misstep could capsize the boat, and in these waters, help was impossible. He glanced at Amal and Meriem. Their faces were pale, but determination shone in their eyes.
Hours passed. The rhythmic crash of the waves became almost hypnotic, and exhaustion clawed at their bodies. Soufiane's mind drifted, as it often did, to Younes. Seven years old, innocent, unaware of the devastation sweeping the world. His boy was in the Netherlands, and every mile they put between themselves and Morocco was one step closer to him—but also one step deeper into the unknown.
"Do you think we'll make it?" Meriem asked quietly.
Soufiane looked at her, then at Amal, before answering. "We have to. There's no other choice. The city is gone, but the world is bigger than this. If we survive the night, we'll find a way to keep going."
The waves grew taller, and a sudden gust threatened to tip the boat. Amal shouted, steadying the craft with all her strength. Soufiane adjusted the tiller, countering the surge, sweat running down his face. Together, they fought the Atlantic, the small group moving as one, relying on instinct and the fragile trust binding them.
Through the darkness, a flicker of light appeared—a distant ship, perhaps, or just a reflection. Soufiane squinted, unsure, but the sight gave them hope. For the first time since leaving Casablanca, a path forward seemed possible.