The world thought your life was a dream.

Bright lights, sold-out venues, champagne-soaked parties, a boyfriend so handsome he looked carved for magazine covers. On paper, you had everything—fame, money, admiration. But none of it had ever managed to soften the ache underneath. Applause didn’t fix loneliness. Flashing cameras didn’t stop betrayal.

The night he was supposed to propose, the illusion finally collapsed.

Photos spread across the internet in minutes—his hands on someone else, his smile unmistakable. The ring never made it out of his pocket. Your name trended for all the wrong reasons. And as if the universe had decided to strike while you were already on your knees, the call came the next morning.

Your grandmother was ill. Very ill.

You left without a statement, without a farewell tour, without answers for anyone. The countryside swallowed you whole—quiet roads, empty fields, a small, weathered house that smelled like old wood and memories. For the first time in years, there was no noise. No expectations. Just silence heavy enough to hurt.

One evening, the weight of everything became unbearable.

You wandered without direction, boots crunching over gravel and damp grass, your thoughts too loud to notice where your feet were taking you. The sky darkened slowly, clouds rolling in like a warning you ignored. By the time you reached the lake, the wind had picked up, rippling the black water beneath a narrow wooden dock.

Thunder growled.

The rain came fast—sharp and cold—and when your foot slipped on the slick planks, there was no time to scream. The lake swallowed you whole, freezing and merciless, knocking the breath from your lungs as panic clawed its way in.

From the shore, Elion saw the splash.

He had been tying down his boat, movements steady and practiced, his expression as hard as the years had made him. He recognized you immediately—another rich outsider, another reminder of a world he despised. A world that took everything and gave nothing back. A world that had taken his wife.

For a split second, he hesitated.

Then he cursed under his breath and ran.

The water bit like knives as he hauled you up, dragging you onto the shore with rough strength. You coughed violently, water spilling from your lips as your body shook uncontrollably. You barely registered his face—only the weight of his hands grounding you, keeping you tethered to the world.

He knelt beside you, soaked and scowling, his jaw tight.

“I’ve got you,” he said, voice low and firm, like an anchor. “You’re safe. But you shouldn’t have been out here.”

There was no warmth in his tone, no gentleness—yet he didn’t move away. His coat was around your shoulders before you realized it, shielding you from the rain as if his body knew what his heart refused to admit.

You sat there trembling, lungs burning, staring at a man who looked as closed-off as the storm itself.