Chapter 19
nineteen
. . .
Hannah
The ship is massive. I stand at the bottom of the gangway staring up at it, my hand tight in Bennett's, and try to process that this is real. That we're actually doing this. Two weeks in the Arctic. Greenland, Iceland, Svalbard. Our honeymoon.
"You okay?" Bennett asks, squeezing my hand.
I look up at him. My husband. The word still feels surreal, like something I'm trying on that doesn't quite fit yet. Except it does fit. Perfectly.
"I'm perfect." I squeeze back. "Just... taking it in."
He grins, that boyish excitement lighting up his face. "Come on. Let's go see our cabin."
We board the ship with our luggage, following the crew member who guides us through narrow hallways and up staircases until we reach our room. Bennett unlocks the door and pushes it open, gesturing for me to go first.
The cabin is beautiful. Compact but elegant, with a queen bed covered in white linens, a small sitting area by the window, and a bathroom with a surprisingly luxurious shower. But it's the window that steals my breath—floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the ocean.
"Bennett." I cross to the window and press my hands against the glass. "This is incredible."
He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. "Wait until we get to the icebergs."
I lean back against him, feeling the solid warmth of his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I can't believe we're doing this."
"Believe it." He presses a kiss to my temple. "You're stuck with me for two weeks in the middle of nowhere."
I laugh and turn in his arms to face him. "I think I can handle that."
He kisses me then, slow and deep, and I melt into him. When we pull apart, he's smiling. "Come on. Let's explore before we set sail."
The ship leaves port at sunset.
We stand on the deck with dozens of other passengers, watching the coastline fade into the distance. The air is cold, sharp against my face, but Bennett's arm is warm around my shoulders. I lean into him, breathing in the salt air, feeling the hum of the engines beneath my feet.
"This is it," I whisper. "We're really doing this."
"We really are." He kisses the top of my head. "How are you feeling?"
"Happy." The word comes easily. "Excited. A little nervous."
"About what?"
I hesitate, trying to find the words. "I don't know. It's just... this is so different from anything I've ever done. I keep waiting for something to go wrong."
He turns me to face him, his hands settling on my waist. "Nothing's going to go wrong. We're on our honeymoon. We're going to see incredible things and make incredible memories. That's it."
I search his eyes, finding only certainty. "You make it sound so simple."
"It is simple." He brushes a strand of hair from my face. "We're together. That's all that matters."
I nod, letting his words settle over me. He's right. We're together. That's all that matters.
The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. Bennett pulls me closer, and we stand there watching until the last light fades and the stars begin to appear.
greenland
Greenland appears on the third morning.
I wake to Bennett shaking my shoulder gently. "Hannah. You need to see this."
I blink awake, disoriented for a moment before remembering where I am. The ship. Our honeymoon. I sit up, rubbing my eyes. "What time is it?"
"Early. Come on." He's already dressed, pulling on a jacket. "Trust me."
I climb out of bed and throw on layers—thermal leggings, a sweater, my warmest coat. Bennett hands me gloves and a hat, and we head up to the deck.
The cold hits me immediately, sharp and biting. But then I see it.
Icebergs.
Massive, towering structures of ice floating in the water, glowing blue and white in the early morning light. They're everywhere, scattered across the ocean like sculptures. Some are smooth and rounded, others jagged and sharp. The water around them is impossibly clear, reflecting the sky.
"Oh my God." I grip the railing, staring. "Bennett, this is?—"
"I know." He's standing beside me, his eyes on the icebergs. "It's unreal."
We stand there for a long time, just watching. Other passengers join us on the deck, but I barely notice them. All I can see is the ice, the water, the sheer scale of everything.
Later that morning, we go kayaking.
The crew outfits us with dry suits and life jackets, gives us a safety briefing, and then we're lowered into the water in tandem kayaks. Bennett sits in the back, steering, while I sit in front with a paddle.
The water is calm, almost glassy. We glide between the icebergs, the only sound the dip of our paddles and the occasional crack of ice shifting. Up close, the icebergs are even more breathtaking. The blue is so vivid it doesn't look real, like someone painted it.
"This is insane," I say, my voice hushed.
Bennett doesn't respond immediately. I glance back at him, and he's watching me with that soft look on his face.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing." He shakes his head slightly. "Just... I'm glad we're here."
We paddle for over an hour, exploring the ice field. At one point, we stop and just float, surrounded by towering walls of ice. The silence is profound, broken only by the distant call of seabirds.
I close my eyes and breathe it in. The cold air. The stillness. The feeling of being so small in the face of something so vast. I open my eyes and look at the ice surrounding us. At the endless blue sky. At Bennett behind me, steady and patient.
iceland
Iceland is fire and ice. We dock in Reykjavik on the fifth day, and the contrast to Greenland is immediate. Where Greenland was all ice and silence, Iceland is alive—geysers shooting steam into the air, waterfalls crashing down cliffs, black sand beaches stretching for miles.
We rent a car and drive out to see the sights. Bennett insists on navigating, even though I tease him about getting us lost.
"I'm not getting us lost," he says, eyes on the GPS.
"You missed the last turn."
"That was intentional."
"Sure it was." I grin. "Just admit you have no idea where we're going."
He glances at me, fighting a smile. "I know exactly where we're going."
"Uh-huh."
We stop at Gullfoss, a massive waterfall that roars so loud we have to shout to hear each other. The mist soaks us within minutes, but neither of us cares. We stand at the edge, holding hands, watching the water plunge into the canyon below.
"This is incredible!" I shout over the noise.
Bennett grins and pulls me closer. "What?"
"I said this is incredible!"
He laughs and kisses me, his lips cold and wet from the mist. When we pull apart, we're both grinning like idiots.
Later, we hike to a geothermal area where the ground steams and bubbles. We watch one geyser shoot water thirty feet into the air, the crowd around us gasping and cheering.
"I feel like we're on another planet," I say.
"We kind of are." Bennett wraps his arm around my waist. "This place is insane."
That evening, we drive to a natural hot spring tucked away in the hills. It's not one of the touristy ones—Bennett found it through some obscure travel blog. We park and hike down a narrow trail, the sun low on the horizon, painting everything gold.
The spring is small, surrounded by rocks and moss. Steam rises from the water, curling into the cool air. We're completely alone.
"This is perfect," I whisper, already pulling off my jacket.
We strip down to our swimsuits and ease into the water. It's hot—almost too hot—but after a moment, my body adjusts. I sink down until the water reaches my shoulders and let out a long sigh.
"Oh my God. This is heaven."
Bennett slides in beside me, his arm settling around my shoulders. "Told you it was worth the hike."
We sit there in comfortable silence, watching the sky change colors. The water is so warm, so soothing, that I feel all the tension I didn't know I was carrying melt away.
"I could stay here forever," I murmur.
"Me too." Bennett's voice is low, content. "But we've still got a week left. Plenty more to see."
I turn to look at him. His hair is damp, his face relaxed. He looks happy. Genuinely, completely happy.
"I'm really glad we did this," I say softly.
"Me too." He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Best decision we ever made."
I lean in and kiss him, slow and deep. His hand slides up to cup my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek. The kiss deepens, and suddenly the hot spring feels even warmer.
When we finally pull apart, we're both breathing hard. Bennett rests his forehead against mine. "I love you so much."
"I love you too." I smile against his mouth. "Even when you get us lost."
He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. "We weren't lost. We were... exploring."
"Sure." I kiss him again, playful this time. "Whatever you say, husband."
svalbard
Svalbard is the edge of the world. We arrive on the tenth day, and the landscape is unlike anything I've ever seen. Barren, stark, beautiful in a way that feels almost alien. Snow-covered mountains rise in the distance, glaciers carve through valleys, and the air is so cold it burns my lungs.
The ship docks in Longyearbyen, the northernmost town in the world. We bundle up in every layer we brought and venture out to explore. The town is small, colorful buildings clustered together against the white landscape.
We take a guided tour out to see the wildlife. The guide drives us in a rugged vehicle across the tundra, pointing out Arctic foxes, reindeer, and seabirds. And then, in the distance, we see it.
A polar bear.
It's massive, moving slowly across the ice, its white fur blending almost perfectly with the snow. Everyone in the vehicle goes silent, watching. The bear pauses, lifts its head, and for a moment, it feels like it's looking right at us.
My breath catches. "Bennett."
"I see it." His hand finds mine, squeezing tight.
We watch until the bear disappears over a ridge. No one speaks for a long moment.
That night, we experience the midnight sun.