{{user}} woke up to the quiet hum of machines and the faint scent of antiseptic. Snow fell outside the frosted window in lazy spirals, painting everything in cold light. The room was small, clean, and unfamiliar.

Her body ached, but her mind… Blank.

Except for her name. That was the only thing she remembered.

The door opened softly, and a man stepped in. Tall, mid-forties maybe, with kind eyes and streaks of silver in his hair. A warm scarf was still wrapped around his neck.

“I’m Dr. Elias Hart,” he said gently. “You’re safe now.”

She blinked at him. “Where am I?”

“Small mountain village called Coldhollow. You were found outside during the snowstorm—hypothermic, bruised, and unconscious. No ID. You’ve been out for three days.”

“I don’t remember anything,” she whispered. “Just… my name.”

Elias gave a slow, understanding nod. “That’s alright. Memory loss can happen after trauma. Your brain’s protecting you. It might come back, piece by piece.”

He hesitated before adding, “You were found by someone—Silas. He lives in a cabin up by the ridge. He saw you collapsed near the treeline and brought you here himself. Said he couldn’t just leave you.”

“Is he… here?”

A quiet knock interrupted her question. The door opened, and in walked the man himself.

Silas was younger than she expected—early thirties maybe. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair dusted in melting snow and a presence that felt both grounded and untamed. Like the mountains themselves had shaped him.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Good.”

Their eyes met, and something pulled taut between them. Not recognition… but something else. A tether she couldn’t name.

“She can’t stay in the clinic forever,” Elias said after a beat. “And with the roads snowed in—well. Silas offered to let you stay at his place for now.”

She looked between them. Elias, warm and steady like a fireplace in a storm. Silas, quiet and unreadable, like the forest in winter.

Two strangers. Two different kinds of safety.

And no way to know who she was…