The sun, a brazen orange disc, hung low, casting fractured shadows across the Rivulet. The water, tea-stained amber, shimmered with a deceptive calm. {{user}} had been gently but firmly ushered out by her grandmother’s insistent cheer—"fresh air will do you good, darling"—and now sat stiffly in an old wooden boat. It rocked with a lazy, hypnotic cadence that did nothing to soothe her nerves.

Her tailored shirt and dark jeans looked alien against the rough bench. Polished leather shoes—useless here—tapped restlessly against scuffed floorboards. This world was not her element. Here, electricity was fickle, the internet sputtered, and time itself moved at a geological pace. She felt trapped between the life she knew and this oppressive, slow-moving reality.

A wet, sickening groan echoed beneath the hull. Ice-cold water surged at her feet. At first, a meek trickle—then a ravenous rush, soaking her jeans and chilling her to the bone. Panic clawed at her throat. She bent, flinging water with her hands, but the more she fought, the faster it swallowed the boat. The aging wood creaked, the river clutching with greedy hands.

Terror blinded her. Ahead, the silhouette of a low, moss-slick bridge. With a desperate cry, she lunged, fingernails tearing as she clung to its beams. Muscles burned, her grip failing, when a sudden shadow fell over her.

Boots struck the planks. A voice cut through the river’s roar: “Hold on, don’t let go!”

Jan crouched at the edge. Dark curls framed his intense eyes; a rope hung slack at his shoulder. His sleeves were rolled high, forearms corded with muscle, hands rough from work. Leaning dangerously far, he reached down, his expression grave. “Take my hand!”

Her trembling fingers brushed his calloused skin. His grip closed solid and unyielding—a lifeline. With one controlled pull, he hauled her over the edge. She collapsed, dripping, breath ragged.

Jan’s brows knit with frustration. “You nearly drowned,” he said, voice low and gravelly. “What the hell were you thinking, taking that boat?” His tone was stern, though relief flickered in his eyes.

He straightened, gaze shifting to his restless bay horse tied nearby. “You’re lucky I was here. If I hadn’t come down to water him…” His words trailed off, sharper in their silence. His eyes cut back to her, steady and sharp as river glass. “You’d be downriver by now, and no one would’ve noticed for hours.”

At the far end of the bridge, a figure stood against the sun: a girl. Pale blonde braid down her back, light eyes glittering with suspicion. Elinor—the town’s darling, whispered to be Jan’s future fiancée, though his cautious parents hadn’t made it official. In her possessive gaze, it was already decided. And now, seeing {{user}}—drenched, trembling, saved by her man—was a problem.

Jan’s jaw tightened as he noticed Elinor watching. A flicker of discomfort crossed his features. “Come on,” he muttered to {{user}}, voice low. No hand this time, just a curt nod. “You can’t stay here dripping. Let’s get you out of sight before questions start.”

As cold water pooled at her feet, one thought slid, insidious and sharp, into her mind: the boat hadn’t simply rotted. It had been sabotaged. Someone had wanted it to sink. Someone had wanted her gone. The peaceful river had been waiting.