Jane Wilson had always believed that leaving was easier than staying.
Leaving meant motion. Staying meant drowning.
That was what she told herself as she stood inside Zurich Airport with one suitcase, a tired heart, and the quiet ache of starting over. The place smelled like coffee and cold metal. Voices echoed in different languages. People rushed past her with purpose, while she stood still, suspended between what she had lost and what she did not yet understand.
Canada was behind her now.
The city noise. The apartment walls that held too many arguments. The feeling of being small in her own life. She had packed light, but emotional baggage was harder to carry. It followed her across oceans.
Jane adjusted her coat and stepped outside.
The cold hit instantly. Sharp. Clean. Alive. Snow dusted the pavement like powdered sugar. Mountains rose in the distance, huge and silent, watching the town below like ancient guards.
She inhaled deeply.
"This is it," she whispered. "New life."
She took three steps forward.
And everything changed.
It wasn't pain. It wasn't fear. It was sudden awareness. Like someone had turned on a light inside her chest. Her heartbeat jumped violently. Her breath stuttered. Heat rushed through her veins in a way that made her dizzy.
Jane froze in place.
Her fingers tightened around her suitcase handle as her body reacted without permission. Goosebumps climbed her arms. Her skin tingled like it had been brushed by invisible fingers.
Slowly, she raised her head.
Across the terminal entrance stood a man.
He wasn't doing anything special. He wasn't loud. He wasn't trying to be noticed. But somehow, he pulled attention like gravity.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair falling loosely around sharp cheekbones. He wore black, and it suited him in a way that made him look dangerous and calm at the same time. His posture was straight, confident, controlled.
But it was his eyes that locked her in place.
Silver-gray.
Cold. Intense. Focused directly on her.
Jane swallowed hard.
For a moment, the world disappeared. No airport noise. No voices. No movement. Just the strange electric tension between two strangers who had never spoken.
Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs.
"I don't know you," she whispered under her breath. "So why do you feel familiar?"
The man's jaw tightened slightly. His gaze darkened. Something unreadable passed through his expression.
Then he turned.
And walked away.
The moment he disappeared into the crowd, the pressure in Jane's chest loosened. But the warmth remained. The echo of something unfinished stayed behind.
She stood there longer than she meant to.
Shaken.
Confused.
And deeply unsettled.
Granny was waiting outside the small town station with a thick scarf wrapped around her head and a smile that carried years of stubborn warmth.
"Jane!" she called, waving.
Jane forced herself to smile and walked toward her. The moment Granny hugged her, some of the tension melted away.
"My girl," Granny said, holding her tight. "You look tired. But strong. Switzerland will be good for you."
Jane nodded softly. "I hope so."
The drive to Valemont was quiet. Snow-covered trees lined the narrow road. Wooden houses appeared scattered along the mountainside. The town looked peaceful. Too peaceful.
Granny's house sat near the edge of the forest. Warm lights glowed from the windows. Smoke curled from the chimney.
Inside smelled like cinnamon and firewood.
Jane felt safe almost immediately.
They ate dinner together and talked about small things. The weather. The neighbors. The market schedule. But as night fell and darkness pressed against the windows, Granny's mood shifted.
"Jane," she said carefully, folding her hands together, "there are rules here."
Jane paused mid-sip. "Rules?"
"Yes. Important ones."
Jane frowned slightly. "Like what?"
Granny hesitated. Her eyes flicked toward the window.
"You must not walk alone at night," she said finally. "Especially near the forest."
Jane laughed softly. "Because of animals?"
Granny's lips pressed together.
"Yes," she said after a moment. "Wild animals."
The answer felt thin. Incomplete. But Jane let it go.
Later, lying in bed under heavy blankets, Jane stared at the wooden ceiling. The house creaked softly with the cold. Wind whispered outside.
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
She frowned and opened the message.
You should not have come here.
Her stomach dropped.
She sat up quickly and typed back.
Who is this?
Three dots appeared.
Then vanished.
No reply came.
Jane's heart began to race again.
She locked her phone and hugged the blanket closer to her chest.
Outside, the forest shifted with the wind.
And deep inside her, something old and quiet stirred.