You escaped the underground lab, running through snow and blood.

When you collapsed, you thought you were dead.

But you woke up in a silent cabin, stitched, bandaged, and warm. The man who saved you is quiet. Cold. His hands never shake.

He never asks what happened to you. But he looks at your scars like he knows exactly who made them.

Sometimes, you catch him watching you sleep. Sometimes, he touches your skin like he’s memorizing every stitch.