How could something so pretty be harmful? Even as she felt as though her chest was about to cave in with the weight of grief she carried, not just for Jack, but also for Thomas Andrews, the ship designer of the Titanic who'd become a father figure in a few short days. Jack's friends, Tommy and Fabrizio. They were nowhere to be found in the Steerage portion of the Carpathia. And her faithful maid, Trudy, who'd comforted her in the wake of Cal's temper. She couldn't find Trudy, either.

Rose reflexively squeezed the hand she was given.

And her thoughts came in as a bit of a haze. Mostly what the modern world called survivor's guilt, people's faces clear enough, but it's like coming through a fog. When she managed to think a thought, it was why was I the one who lived?