5. The Seed Of A New Idea

The morning light filtered softly through the window blinds, thin lines of gold spreading across the walls. Ruby stirred beneath the sheets, her eyes fluttering open slowly. Her phone rested on the pillow beside her, an old habit from years of needing to check work emails the moment she woke up.

But there were no emails now, no urgent messages from Douglas, no last-minute demands, no schedules laid out in sterile black-and-white text. Just the quiet, steady hum of the city beyond her window.

Her gaze caught the clock on the nightstand: 9:48 a.m, a time that had once felt impossibly late. Any morning she had woken up this late before would have been accompanied by a jolt of panic, a rush to make up for lost time. Now, it was simply part of this new, untethered reality she was still adjusting to.

She lay there for a while, cocooned in the sheets, letting the slow weight of morning settle over her. Her mind drifted to the night before, sitting on Leah's couch, their legs tangled over the armrest, red wine swirling in their glasses. Leah's words echoed in her mind:

"You always say you want adventure. Maybe this is your chance."

She stared at the ceiling, her heartbeat steady but thoughtful.

Adventure.

It had always been a word she threw around easily, a dream born from scrolling through Instagram feeds filled with people exploring places she had never seen. It had been a nice idea, something to romanticize when she was trapped in that cubicle, filling out spreadsheets for a boss who barely knew her name.

But now? Now, it was different. It wasn't a daydream anymore, it was a possibility.

Slowly, she forced herself to sit up, the sheets falling away from her legs. Her hair hung messily around her face, wild from sleep, and she ran her fingers through the tangled waves.

🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️

🛳️ 🛳️

🛥️ 🛥️

⛴️ 𝑵𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒃𝒐𝒓 ⛴️

🚢 🚢

⛴️ ⛴️

🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️🌬️

Once in the kitchen, she made a quick cup of coffee, the rich scent filling the room as she took her first sip. It was warm, comforting, something steady in the midst of all the uncertainty.

She carried the mug to the living room, settling onto the couch with her laptop resting against her legs. Her fingers hesitated for a moment before typing, the echo of Leah's voice still nudging at her mind.

"What if you did something completely different?"

Her heart quickened slightly as she typed into the search bar:

"Jobs that let you travel."

Results flooded the screen: travel bloggers, freelance writing gigs, remote tech jobs. She skimmed through them quickly, her interest sparking and fading with each new listing. Then, on the second page, she saw it.

"Cruise ship jobs: travel the world while you work!"

Her pulse quickened. Her fingers hovered uncertainly before clicking the link. The page loaded slowly, the anticipation building in her chest. When it appeared, bright and bold, it was like staring at a window into a completely different life.

There were photos of massive cruise ships, gleaming white against endless blue waters, pools sparkling under the sun, passengers lounging in deck chairs. Smiling crew members in uniforms, bartenders, entertainers, hospitality staff, all of them caught mid-laugh, mid-movement. It felt lively, dynamic, charged with energy.

Her eyes flicked over the categories: entertainment, hospitality, guest relations, fitness, childcare. She clicked through each one, curiosity blooming in her chest.

"Join our team and experience travel like never before! Explore new cultures, meet people from around the world, and create memories that last a lifetime."

She imagined herself there, standing on the deck of a ship, the wind in her hair, sun on her face, surrounded by people who were just as eager to explore as she was. It felt impossible, like a fantasy, but also like a glimmer of something she had been craving.

Ruby scrolled down, her gaze catching on the requirements section. Her enthusiasm faltered once she started reading:

"Previous experience in hospitality or customer service preferred." "Entertainment experience required for performance roles."

"Background in childcare or education necessary for youth staff positions."

Her stomach sank. The doubts began to creep in. What does she even have to offer? What could she possibly bring to a job like this? She had been an office assistant, a paper-pusher, a person whose entire job revolved around organizing someone else's messes.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the laptop, a small swell of frustration rising. She didn't have a background in hospitality, had never performed on a stage or worked with children. She had no special skills that made her stand out. Just a college degree, years of administrative work, and a burning desire to escape the mundane.

The excitement drained from her chest, replaced by the familiar weight of doubt. Maybe Leah had been wrong. Maybe this was just another reckless idea, another attempt to outrun reality.

But as her finger hovered over the "close tab" icon, she paused. Her mind drifted to the night before, to Leah's voice:

"Don't go back to another job just because you're scared. You deserve more than that."

Her heart hammered. Her gaze shifted back to the screen. The application page was still open. The words seemed to taunt her: "Join our team. Experience travel like never before."

Maybe she wasn't the most qualified. Maybe she had no idea what she was doing. But she had fought too hard to leave that job, to break free from that suffocating routine, to let herself get pulled back into something that made her feel trapped.

And what did she have to lose, really? Her savings would dry up soon enough. The job listings she had scrolled through yesterday felt like shackles, different titles, but the same empty monotony. If this didn't work out, if she failed spectacularly, at least it would be her failure, her choice.

Her fingers moved almost on their own, typing quickly, filling in fields: her name, her contact information, her minimal work experience. When it asked for a cover letter, her mind blanked for a moment. What could she even say to make them see her, to consider someone with no direct experience, just a restless heart and a need to escape?

But she wrote anyway, about her ability to adapt, her eagerness to learn, her drive to find something beyond the routine that had dulled her senses for years. She hit submit before she could overthink it.

The screen flashed, confirming the submission: "Thank you for your application! We will review and contact you soon."

Her breath left her in a rush, a mix of relief and terror curling through her. She stared at the screen, her pulse still racing, unsure whether she had just made a mistake or taken the first step toward something that could finally make her feel alive.

She leaned back, the weight of the laptop resting on her legs. The room felt smaller now, the air charged with the possibility of something new. Fear still lingered, but it was tempered by the thrum of excitement.

She had done it. She had taken the leap.

Now, all she could do was wait and hope that this reckless, impossible choice might finally lead her to something real.