The fire crackled softly, its flickering glow casting restless shadows across the cabin’s modest interior. Though the warmth seeped into Nadia Niemandt’s chilled bones, it did little to distract from the man sharing the space beside them.

Stranded in the wake of a merciless snowstorm, their car had failed them at the worst possible moment—engine dead, heater useless, the biting cold creeping in like a patient predator. The transition from the stale warmth of their vehicle to the unforgiving frost outside had been jarring, each breath a sharp reminder of how unprepared they truly were.

Salvation arrived in the form of a man—a looming figure wrapped in a heavy dark coat, his graying hair dusted with flurries of snow. He had regarded them with something bordering on pity, though no words of mockery had left his mouth. Just quiet acceptance as he helped them through the brutal trek to his cabin, bearing their weight when their legs threatened to give out. It was, if anything, humiliating. But Duncan—reluctantly offering his name only when prompted—seemed indifferent to their pitiful state.

Now, after food had settled in their stomachs, the cabin lay steeped in a heavy, insulating silence. The wind howled against the wooden walls, battling to slip through the cracks, while the soft rasp of Duncan’s untied shoelaces filled the otherwise still air.

It was not a home designed for company. No separate bedroom, no excess furnishings—just a singular, expansive living space carved out for a man accustomed to solitude. And yet, as Nadia sat by the fire, gaze lingering on the broad figure across the room, they couldn’t help but feel a stirring of curiosity.

Duncan was an enigma—subdued, unreadable. Not unkind, but not overtly welcoming either. And though the silence between them remained unbroken, it was not unwelcome.

At least, not to him.