“If you had to choose between the stars or the moon, what would you choose?” he asked.
“I’d choose the stars,” she answered eagerly.
Ross tilted his head, a curious smile forming. “Why the stars?”
“Because the stars shine so brightly,” she replied, her eyes glimmering, “that they guide shipmen to their destinations, even through the darkest of nights.”
He chuckled softly. “Then what about me? Should I choose the stars or the moon?”
She raised a brow, teasing. “So, what would you pick?”
“I’d choose the moon,” he said. “Because there are thousands of stars in the sky, but only one moon. And even surrounded by all that brilliance, the moon always orbits faithfully beside the earth. That’s how I feel when I found you.”
⸻
“Two peas in a pod.” That’s what everyone called Ross and Chris. They grew up together — laughing, learning, crying, and dreaming side by side. Yet, despite their closeness, they were worlds apart.
Chris was born into wealth and renown, the only son of Brighton’s Mayor. His world was polished silver and grand halls. Ross, on the other hand, was a humble farm boy — raised among cows, pigs, and horses, with a heart as vast as the fields he worked on.
Different as they were, their friendship was the town’s favorite tale — a reminder that some bonds defy circumstance.
⸻
It was a grey, drizzly morning in Brighton. The fishermen hauled in their catch of the day while bakers filled the streets with the scent of fresh bread. Life went on as it always did — simple, repetitive, predictable.
But that day, something shifted.
Ross and Chris were chatting with an old fishmonger when they noticed a ship approaching from the horizon. Word spread like wildfire. Soon, the townsfolk gathered by the dock, eager for a glimpse.
As the ship drew closer, the waves shimmered under the soft dawn light. Among the bustling crowd, a maiden in a pink dress caught Chris’s eye. She smiled shyly, and he was instantly smitten.
Moments later, the ship docked with a heavy thud. The crew descended — proud men in navy coats, boots polished, their presence commanding awe. Brighton had never seen such grandeur. The people cheered; the air buzzed with excitement.
Then, as the crowd thinned, a delicate scent drifted through the breeze — lilies and primroses. From the ship descended a young woman with pale skin, rosy cheeks, and chestnut hair that danced in the sunlight.
Ross froze.
Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, time stopped. The world faded into silence, leaving only her. She glowed like the morning sun — ethereal, almost unreal. Ross stood transfixed, feeling as though an angel had stepped onto the dock.
⸻
The young lady introduced herself as the captain’s daughter. She mentioned she had left Brighton as a child — now returning as a grown woman.
Chris’s father, the Mayor, invited the captain and his crew to a grand ball, intending to formally introduce Chris to the captain’s daughter. Chris knew of this plan, though he chose not to tell Ross.
⸻
The next day, Ross couldn’t stop thinking about her. Every word she said replayed in his mind; her laughter lingered like a melody. Something about her felt strangely familiar — as if their souls had once crossed paths.
That evening, Ross met Chris at their old barn, as they always did. Chris noticed the gleam in his friend’s eyes and grinned knowingly.
Ross, however, was lost in thought — about the girl, the ship, and the way she had looked at him.
Chris, ever the storyteller, began recounting one of his wild adventures — his search for a fabled Indian restaurant said to serve the best curries, naan, and dhal. An old farmer had told him that to find it, he needed a silver compass, a sharp eye, and a good sense of smell.
After bargaining with a local dealer, Chris paid three pouches of gold and a bronze locket for the compass. He trekked through forests and berry bushes, guided only by the faint scent of cinnamon and smoke, until he stumbled upon a small cottage — the restaurant.
Inside, he found people with long braided hair and sun-kissed skin. Their eyes were dark as coal, and their laughter filled the room. Though he didn’t find the dishes he’d imagined, he returned home proudly declaring he had found “the Indian restaurant” — and planned to make it his own.
Ross laughed at the tale. Then he told Chris about the girl he met at the docks — how her presence made the world seem lighter. Chris listened silently, jealousy flickering behind his eyes.
Ross mentioned that he had invited her to the ball. She had hesitated at first, but eventually agreed.
⸻
The night of the ball arrived. Excitement filled the air as the town closed early. The streets shimmered under lantern light.
Chris stood at his father’s mansion, sharp and polished, ready to welcome the guests — and the captain’s daughter.
Meanwhile, Ross waited by the jetty, rocking on his heels as the sea breeze brushed his hair.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
The hours slipped by — eight… nine… ten… eleven.
He had waited five hours when the air suddenly filled with the scent of lilies and primroses. He turned, and there she was.
Dressed in a canary-yellow gown, her skin glowed beneath the moonlight. She smiled — radiant, soft, kind — and Ross smiled back, his heart leaping in his chest.
It was a full moon that night, brighter than it had ever been. That was when Ross asked her the question about the moon and the stars.
⸻
At the ball, laughter and music swirled through the hall. Couples danced beneath chandeliers, and the air sparkled with joy. Ross couldn’t wait to introduce her to Chris and the Mayor.
He was certain he had found the one.
Ross greeted Chris with a wide grin.
“What’s with the smile, old friend?” Chris teased.
“I think I’ve found the one,” Ross replied earnestly.
He turned toward the Mayor and the Captain, ready to speak — but before he could, the Captain began sharing tales of his voyages.
The hall quieted.
Then, in a low, trembling voice, the Captain said, “My daughter, Luna, lost her life on the thirteenth full moon we spent at sea.”
The words hit Ross like a blow.
“I’m deeply sorry for your loss,” the Mayor murmured, eyes downcast. “I’m sure she left a tremendous mark on your heart.”
“She did,” the Captain replied, his voice heavy with grief. “I named my ship Luna after her. I promised her on her deathbed that I’d always keep fresh calla lilies aboard, whenever we could find them.”
Ross stood frozen.
Lilies. The scent that haunted him since the day she appeared. The moon — their conversation. Her laughter, her glow.
She wasn’t real.
Chris’s expression darkened with quiet pity.
Ross realized that the woman he met — the one he thought he loved — was gone long ago. A soul of the sea. A memory that returned home for one last dance.
⸻
Since that night, every time Ross looked up at the moon, he thought of her. The girl he almost had. The love that almost was.
And beneath the moonlight, he’d whisper softly to himself —
“If I had to choose between the stars or the moon,
I’d still choose you.”
