I kept stealing glances at him. The woods had gone quiet, too quiet.

  “You should be scared,” he said, his voice way too calm. “I’m a stranger.”

  I knew he was right. I should’ve been freaking out. I was literally alone in the middle of nowhere with a guy I didn’t even know.

  But I wasn’t.

  Something inside me felt weirdly steady, like my body had already decided he wasn’t a threat. So I just kept looking. He had these sharp, clean lines to his face and this... maturity.

  He didn’t look anything like the guys at school. He looked older—not just his age, but his whole vibe. Like he actually knew who he was.

  The silence stretched between us making his presence feel more intense.

  “it’s getting late,” he finally muttered. “Time to go home.”

  I had completely forgotten about the passing of time and how worried Mia would be. My stomach chose that moment to growl so loudly that I felt embarrassed.

  We walked side by side, close enough to feel the heat coming of him, but never actually touching.

  "Do you think i am a stupid person for being out at this time a lone? with a stranger and a place haunted by wolves?" finally asked what was eating up my mind. I would find such a person very stupid as well.

  "I don't think that."

  "anyone would."

  "I know"

  "so...do you?" I don't know why i suddenly felt the urge to explain myself.

  "you're not stupid for wanting space when feeling overwhelmed. but maybe next time choose a better place."

  For some reason that made me feel worse like he just admitted that i am stupid in the most polite way.

  if it were other scenarios i would most probably snap but something stopped me.

  When Mr. Fisher’s house finally appeared through the trees, I could spot Mia standing outside. Even in the fading light, the stress on her face was obvious.

  “Don’t go walking alone at night again.” He said softly.

  A nod was the only possible response;

  As he turned to walk away, a sudden spike of panic hit.

  “w-wait,: the words came out in a stammer. “Can…is there a way to reach you?”

  He stopped and looked back, studying the face in front of him like it was something fragile. Then he reached out a hand and gently touched the top of my head.

  A tiny smile tugging on his lips. “Meeting again is a certainty.”

  With that, he walked away. There was a literal ache in my chest as I watched him fade into the night. Something about that felt way too familiar, I just couldn’t point it out yet.

  “Where shall we meet again?” the shout followed him into the woods to which he gave a short wave without looking back and vanished into the shadows.

  I stared at the spot he stood in earlier and regretted not asking about him when I had the chance. Or I could have said something better.

  Mia was already moving when I finally turned around.

  “Hana?”

  Mia’s voice cut through the quiet, sharper than I expected. I turned, and there she was, halfway down the porch steps. The yellow light hit her face, making her look paler than usual, almost frantic. The second she really saw me, she didn't just walk—she lunged.

  It was more like a collision. She grabbed me so hard the air left my lungs in a huff, her arms locking around my shoulders like she was

  trying to anchor me to the ground. I could feel her breath against my hair—shaky, hot, and uneven. The sound of someone who had been holding their breath for a mile.

  “Where were you?” she whispered. It wasn’t a lecture but pure, unfiltered fear.

  She pulled back just enough to frame my face in her hands, her thumbs brushing my cheekbones as if she were checking for cracks.

  Her palms were ice-cold, her eyes glassy with that look people get right before they break.

  “I thought—” She stopped, her throat working as she swallowed whatever terrifying thing she’d imagined. “I walked the road twice,

  Hana. Just… walking and looking.”

  Guilt stung, sharp and immediate, but that weird, electric buzz in my chest wouldn’t die down.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice barely a notch above the wind. “I didn’t realise it had gotten so late.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  She searched my eyes, waiting for me to say something was wrong.

  Relief finally hit her, and her shoulders dropped an inch. She pulled me back in, but this time it was different—slower, surer. Like she was just making sure I was actually solid and not a ghost.

  “You’re freezing,” she murmured, her voice finally smoothing out. “Come on. Inside.”

  She didn't demand an explanation. She just kept a hand on my back, steering me through the door as if I might float away if she let go.

  Later, alone in my room, I leaned my weight against the shut door. Then, out of nowhere, I started laughing. It wasn't loud—just a breathless, "no way" kind of sound. What just happened to me?

  I swapped my damp clothes for an oversized hoodie, tied my hair up in a messy knot, and collapsed onto the bed. I reached for my journal, my heart still doing that strange, rhythmic thrum.

  I flipped to a fresh page, the paper cool under my hand.

  Dear Starfish,

  Code Red. Actually, scratch that. Code Everything.!!!

  The sky finally said something back. The curse from the demon kingdom broke, I'm a free woman now...

  you will have to look for a new Ice queen, this one got a full heart.

  The bellus just… appeared. Tall, quiet, and honestly? Infuriatingly attractive. Like he walked off a set. And the voice? It should be a crime.

  I don't know who he is or how he got there, but when he looked at me, it felt like he already knew the punchline to every joke I’ve ever been too shy to tell.

  And before you start—no, this isn't a "he's cute" thing. This was different. He told me we’d see each other again. And the scary part? I actually believe him.

  If you were here, we’d be screaming into pillows right now.

  Your (previously) ice-queen friend ,001 H.

  I closed the book. "Butterflies" felt too small for this. This was heavier. It felt like the world had shifted just a few degrees off its axis.

  I pushed the window open, letting the night air spill in. The stars were sharp, bright enough to sting. I tried to count them to calm down, but I kept losing my place. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face again. The way he told me I should be scared.

  The way I absolutely wasn't.

  I fell asleep with that thought on a loop, hoping the morning wouldn't wash the feeling away like a dream. But the next day didn't start with a dream.

  It started with a knock, hard and precise. The door swung open before I could even sit up.

  “Hana.”

  Mia slammed into my room, and I knew immediately I was dead. She was shaking that stupid letter with the school stamp. I tried to hold my ground, but the look in her eyes—half-furious, half-exhausted—made my stomach do a slow crawl.

  ?"Suspended. Again," she said. Her voice was sharp, like a paper cut. "Hannah, seriously? Do you even care? Or is 'getting kicked out' just your personality trait now?"

  ?I locked my arms across my chest, trying to look bored even though my heart was hammering against my ribs. "I didn’t do what they said. They're lying."

  ?"Oh, really?" Mia didn't even blink. She started reading the letter out loud, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "'Aggressive behaviour. Framing students. Physical assault.' They’re recommending therapy, Hannah. Therapy!"

  ?"It wasn’t like that," I snapped, my jaw aching from how hard I was clenching it. "They’re twisting it to make me look like the villain."

  ?Mia’s hands balled into fists. "Every single school says the same thing! It’s the same report, just a different letterhead. Do you have any idea how much I have to grovel to keep you in these places? I’m exhausted from apologising for things I didn't even do!"

  ?The heat climbed up my neck. "So what? You think I’m just some psycho? Some violent freak?"

  ?"I don't think that," she said, and suddenly she sounded a hundred years old. "I think you’re pissed off at the world, and instead of dealing with it, you’re just... breaking things. And you're ruining your life in the process."

  ?I looked at the floor. The carpet suddenly seemed very interesting.

  ?"You disappear for hours. You get into these brawls. Then you come home and act like everything’s fine," she said, tapping the letter against the desk. Thump. Thump. "You’re seventeen, Hannah. You can't keep acting like a bratty kid. Actions actually matter."

  ?"I didn't start it," I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded.

  ?"I don't care!" she shot back. "The problem is that you always finish it!"

  ?That one stung. It felt like a physical slap, and for a second, I couldn't even breathe. My defences were basically crumbling, but I refused to let her see me shake.

  ?Mia’s shoulders dropped, and she rubbed her face like she was trying to wipe away the headache I was giving her.

  "They want you to see a therapist. And honestly? I’m done. I think you need it. Because I’m out of ideas, Hannah. I don't know how to talk to you anymore."

  ?I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell her she didn't get it, that nobody got it. But the fire in my chest just... went out. I felt hollow. "I don't need a shrink," I muttered.

  ?"Maybe you don't," she sighed, looking at me with a pity that hurt worse than the anger. "But you need something. Because we can't keep doing this."

  ?She stood there for a second, the silence in the room feeling like it was crushing me. She looked so tired—impossibly tired—and for the first time, I felt the actual weight of what I was doing to her.

  For the following days things were technically “fine” at home, but not really. Mia and I had spent two full days under the same roof, moving around each other like strangers who just happened to share walls. She cooked. I ate.

  She asked small, careful questions. I answered with smaller ones. We weren’t fighting anymore, but we weren’t okay either. It was the kind of silence that stretches thin and tight, like it might snap if someone speaks too loudly.

  By the third day, I couldn’t stand being inside anymore. 'Vacation from school' felt less like a break and more like a punishment. I grabbed my phone and walked out towards the woods without telling her where I was going. Not because I had somewhere specific to be. I just needed air.

  There isn’t much to do in Villaluz. No cafes or cinemas. No noisy streets to disappear into. Just trees and long paths that all start to look the same after a while. I walked without thinking, my shoes brushing against damp leaves, my phone in my hand.

  I scrolled through old messages, reread conversations I had already memorised. People from home. People who still lived in a world that made sense.

  That’s when I saw Alicia’s message again.

  There’s no place called Villaluz anywhere on the map.

  I had brushed it off before. Told myself she must have typed it wrong. Maybe she searched the wrong spelling. Maybe she was exaggerating. But standing there in the middle of these woods, with nothing but trees and silence around me, the words felt different.

  No place called Villaluz.

  Yet I was standing in it!

  I opened my maps app again, even though I had done it before. The signal flickered, then disappeared. I zoomed out, then in, then out again. Nothing useful loaded. Just blank patches and frozen grids. My chest tightened a little, but I told myself I was overthinking it.

  Alicia liked drama. She always had.

  Still, I couldn’t call her. Couldn’t text her. The internet barely worked unless it felt generous. So I did something that felt almost stupidly old-fashioned. I went back home, grabbed a notebook from my bag, and stared at the letter i wrote her.

  i had no idea where to post it.

  There wasn’t a post office in the village. I had never seen a mail truck. I suddenly realised I didn’t even know how letters left this place.

  The thought made something cold slide down my spine.

  Instead of asking Mia, I slipped the letter into my jacket and headed back towards the fork in the woods. The one Abie had once taken me through when we were trying to skip the longer path home. I remembered the wig she had been wearing that day, the way she laughed as if nothing in this place could ever scare her.

  I took the same path now.

  The further I walked, the quieter it became. The trees grew thicker, their branches weaving overhead like they were trying to close the sky. The air felt heavier here, damp and still. I kept walking even when I wasn’t sure why.

  After a while, I saw two houses standing a short distance apart, both old enough to look like they were holding themselves together out of habit.

  The paint had peeled away in long strips. The windows were dark. No smoke from chimneys or sound of movement.

  I stepped closer, careful not to make too much noise, though I didn’t know why I was being careful. The wooden steps creaked under my weight as I moved near one of the windows. I leaned slightly, just enough to peer through the edge of the glass.

  Inside, I saw movement.

  An old man walked slowly across the room, his back slightly bent, his skin pale in a way that didn’t look healthy. He left the room, and a few seconds later, another figure entered. Younger. Not young, exactly, but not old either. Something about the shape of his face tugged at my memory. I had seen him before. At school, maybe. Or in the courtyard.

  I couldn’t place him.

  He stood near a table and picked up something small and metallic. My eyes narrowed. It was a syringe. He rolled up his sleeve with practised ease and injected himself with a thick red liquid.

  Red!.

  I didn’t realise I had stopped breathing until my lungs started to burn. He didn’t even hesitate. Just pressed the plunger down calmly, like this was routine. Like this was normal.

  My mind raced through explanations. Medicine. Some kind of illness. Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like. But there was something about the way he moved—controlled, almost careful—that made my stomach twist.

  I leaned in a little more, trying to see well.

  A hand suddenly gripped my shoulder.