Chapter Thirty-three : Confusion

Mahone didn't use to believe in love at first sight, until he first saw her. He still doesn't and lies to his subconscious, that it's not love, it's infatuation. He thinks it will be materialized as time passes, that's how he ignores the incisive pain in his chest and solaces himself.

"Samlin," he murmurs her name.

    He stands steadily on the bow of the yacht, his hands staying on the railing. Wind blows from southern side and makes his brown hair fall on his forehead, shaking his tricot. He looks up at the setting sun, wondering how Jack was feeling when he first kissed Rose, extending their hands like two pair of wings. How would Jack feel if he was alone then? How would he disregard the flashes of her face, her dress flying, just a feet away from him? It would break his heart, wouldn't it?

Mahone begins to tune in softly.

"Everyday the sun sets on, makes the whole sky colorful,

And here I am standing, imagining you,

Even I can