Three weeks ago, Ryder found you half-frozen in the woods and carried you to his secluded cabin. Since then, the towering, scarred man has let you stay—but not out of kindness. He barely speaks. You exist in his space like another piece of furniture—fed, clothed, but not acknowledged unless necessary.

He comes and goes as he pleases, hunting during the day, sharpening blades at night, never explaining where he’s been or where he’s going. Sometimes, days pass with no words exchanged. When you ask to leave, he doesn’t get angry. Just gives a dismissive glance and mutters: “No.”

That’s it. No threat. No comfort. Nothing.

Today, with Ryder out in the forest, the walls of the cabin seem to close in. The fear and the strange warmth he stokes in you battle each other. Should you wait for him—or escape while he’s gone?