Delia hummed softly to herself, the familiar tune of an old folk song escaping her lips. She lost herself in the rhythm of her repetitive task, as she peeled and diced potatoes into small cubes before setting them aside.

The ship rocked tenderly on the waves, swaying back and forth, slow and steady, and the pots and pans gently clinked against each other, a ringing bell to her song. The music filled the cramped galley, and Delia felt a sense of comfort and familiarity preparing the evening meal. Nostalgia. For in this moment, she could lose herself in the simple pleasure of cooking and singing, forgetting the gruelling passage of time.

She turned her attention to the onions. The sharp blade of the knife sliced smoothly through the skin, and a pungent scent filled the air, mingling with the salty sea breeze. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she paused, careful to avoid cutting herself.

“Honestly, Lenton, how do you cut this stuff without crying?”

“You shoulda freezed it,” the cook replied.

“Frozen it," she corrected. "And there were none in that ice box!”

“I don’t need to freeze onions, but I gotta keep the meat fresh.” He shook his head. “Stop being a little kid and deal with it. Shoulda told me you wanted to cook yesterday.”

“Stop being a kid,” she mocked in a childish voice. “How about you be a gentleman and help me out? Please?”

Lenton grunted. “Move out the way then,” he sighed, before grumbling about how, “I told you to leave the cutting to me.”

Delia ignored him, heating a pan on the stove and adding a generous knob of butter to melt. She watched as Lenton expertly diced up her onions and smiled as an idea formed in her head. It wasn't the onions' fault, it was Jonah's; he deserved to cry a little too for making her shed tears.

“Here,” the cook said.

Lenton passed over the onions and she tossed them into the pan, stirring them gently as they sizzled and browned. The aroma of the caramelising onions made her mouth water. It was odd, how the onions made you cry one moment and salivate another; well, it was the sulphur.

She added the diced potatoes to the pan, along with a pinch of salt and a sprinkle of herbs, then stirred the mixture together, letting the flavours meld and combine. As the potatoes cooked, she turned her attention to the main course – Kraken meat. It had been the main course for the last two months now, the other meats and fish rationed.

It didn’t make her queasy anymore, though she would have preferred not recalling the battle every day; still, It was a reminder she needed to be stronger.

“You lost girl?” Lenton said.

“Huh? Oh.” She shook her head.

Refocusing on her task, she coated the meat in a simple mixture of flour, salt, and pepper. Then she cut a small portion, separated it from the rest, and doused it with spices before frying it in a hot pan until it was golden and crispy. She quickly did the same to the rest, letting it sizzle and pop as it cooked.

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“Don't think I didn’t see that girl,” Lenton reprimanded.

“See what?” She said innocently, a smile playing on her lips.

The man mumbled incoherently, returning to his tasks.

Delia turned the meat and busied herself with the presentation. She knew it wouldn't compare to Lenton's cooking, but hoped she could make it up with attention to detail.

It wasn't long until the meal was ready.

She served the battered meat with a generous scoop of the buttery potatoes, then, realising her mistake, carefully sliced the Kraken to allow her special edition to innocuously fit in. It was perfect. Finally, she used a spoon to smother the condiment on the plate, making it look fancier than it was.

“A meal fit for a king,” she said proudly.

Delia made her way from the galley to Jonah's rooms, ambling down the zigzag paths with a wide grin.

She opened the door with her free hand, ignoring the courtesy of knocking — it wasn't like he would care — and placed the meal by his bedside table.

“Jonah,” she said, tapping his prone form. She tapped him a few times, before he finally turned around and blinked. "Were you sleeping?"

“Hey, Del.” He smiled.

“I got you food,” she said, soft and slow. Delia helped him up and rest his back against the frame of the bed. He was still weak and recovering, but out of life-threatening danger. His leg was still bandaged, but the white wrappings were removed from his chest, and the tubes were extracted from his arms.

“You cooked?”

Delia smiled and nodded. It was a mischievous grin, but Jonah was staring at the food, so she was sure he didn’t notice. She wondered if it were best to give him the extra loved cut first or last; giving it first could ruin his entire meal, but giving it last would leave a bad aftertaste…

“Last it is,” she said, under her breath, Jonah having already stabbed a cut portion whilst she was lost in thought.

Delia sat on the stool beside his bed and took the fork and plate into her own hands. “Here, let me,” she said, offering to feed Jonah.

He nodded whilst he chewed. “Thanks."

The two sat in silence, making small talk once every so often. There wasn’t much to say since very little had changed: there was no land in sight, no signs of birds, and no stars in the sky. They drifted towards nowhere; it made the ship feel like a funeral procession.

“You need to sleep, Del,” Jonah said, halfway through chewing.

What had brought that on, she wondered, before finally answering with a nod. “I am.”

After finally chewing, he added, “I can see the bags under your eyes.”

“That's charming. I still look better than you.”

Jonah shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

It was his fault that she couldn't sleep. Closing her eyes transported her back to that day, when all she could do was stand helplessly and watch. If it didn't do that, then her nightmares were of what could have been, and what could still be.

Jonah needed medical attention. He was no longer in a life-threatening condition, but Delia knew that it was temporary, that he was still very poorly, as much as he hid it. She had overheard the doctor and the captain talk about him, how his condition would worsen if they didn’t find land, and with the way things were going, that didn’t seem like anytime soon.

“Here,” she said, stuffing the final bite into his mouth. It was more aggressive than warranted, but it was his fault for making her think such dark thoughts.

Jonah slowly chewed as usual. Then his eyes widened. “What did you do?!”