The horizon darkened as if the sun had been swallowed whole, leaving the Atlantic an endless expanse of black and silver. Soufiane's hands clenched the tiller, knuckles white, eyes squinting against the wind's furious assault. The waves, once gentle and rhythmic, now rose like jagged walls, crashing over the small boat with bone-jarring force. Amal clutched Meriem close, shielding her trembling sister from the spray that stung their faces.
"This doesn't look good!" Amal shouted, voice barely audible over the roar. "It's coming too fast!"
Soufiane scanned the sky. Black clouds twisted above, low and heavy, moving with a sinister intent. The ocean was no longer passive—it had become a predator, testing their endurance, their resolve, their will to survive. Every swell threatened to topple them, every gust of wind pushed them closer to disaster.
"Hold on!" Soufiane shouted, muscles taut, arms straining. "We ride it together. Don't fight the waves—move with them!"
The first monstrous wave rose before them, folding onto the boat with a thunderous crash. Water poured over the bow, soaking them instantly, chilling them to the bone. Amal gritted her teeth, clinging to Meriem as the girl screamed, pressed against her sister. Soufiane countered each surge with raw strength, twisting the tiller, shifting his weight, forcing the boat to ride the swelling Atlantic instead of capsizing.
Another wave smashed into them, taller and heavier. The boat shuddered violently; Meriem's screams cut through the storm's roar. Amal swung her arms, stabilizing their makeshift raft as Soufiane barked directions. "Lean with me! Not against me!"
Time blurred. The storm raged without mercy. Minutes stretched into hours as Soufiane guided the vessel through the surging water. The spray stung their eyes, salt crusting on skin and clothes, yet they pressed onward. Amal's hands blistered on the sides of the boat, Meriem's small body shivering, and Soufiane's arms screamed with fatigue—but they moved as one, a fragile unit against the wrath of nature.
Through the chaos, Soufiane caught a glimpse of something distant—a faint outline, gray against the darkness. A cove? Shelter? He pushed the thought aside, focusing on every motion, every second. One misstep could send them plunging into the icy Atlantic, far from help, far from hope.
The waves continued to batter them, relentless and punishing. Soufiane's forearms burned from gripping the tiller. Amal's hair whipped across her face as she called out instructions, each one precise, urgent. Meriem's nails dug into her sister's arm, her wide eyes reflecting terror and trust in equal measure.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the waves began to ease. A break in the storm revealed the cove more clearly, its shallow waters calmer than the furious ocean beyond. Soufiane steered with trembling strength, carefully nudging the boat toward the inlet. Each surge of the Atlantic was met with patience, precision, and instinct honed by years of fishing and survival.
The boat bumped onto the sand, finally still. Exhaustion hit them like a wave itself. Soufiane slumped, drenched and bruised, but alive. Amal's arms relaxed around Meriem, and the girl finally dared to breathe steadily. Saltwater dripped from hair and clothes, mixing with soot and ash from the burning coastline they had left behind.
"We made it," Amal whispered, voice hoarse but filled with relief. She patted Meriem's shoulder, trying to convey strength despite her own trembling.
Soufiane allowed himself a short nod, scanning the dark waters beyond the cove. They had survived the storm, but the Atlantic had reminded them of its merciless power. The journey north, the reunion with Younes, the search for family—none of it would be easy. Yet, for the first time in days, he allowed a flicker of hope to pierce the fear.
Casablanca's burning skyline was now just a memory, the city swallowed by flames and shadow. The storm behind them, the ocean ahead, Soufiane understood one truth: survival was not guaranteed. Every day, every mile, every decision mattered. And with Amal and Meriem at his side, he would face whatever came next—storm, waves, or darkness—with determination.
For tonight, at least, they had endured. And that was everything.