The forest closed around them more quickly than Anna expected.
At first, it was only distance—the road stretching longer, the absence of signs, the way the car seemed to glide without encountering another vehicle. Then the signal on her phone weakened, then vanished altogether. She didn't reach for it. She only noticed the quiet where noise used to be.
Trees rose on both sides of the road, tall and straight, their trunks pale against the deeper green behind them. The canopy thickened overhead, filtering the light into soft fragments that slid across the windshield and disappeared again.
Anna shifted in her seat.
Her hands folded together in her lap without her quite deciding to do it.
Lucien spoke before the silence could settle too deeply.
"Have you been outside the city much?" he asked.
She turned toward him. "Not really. Just parks. Hiking trails."
He nodded, eyes forward. "This area is protected. Development is… limited."
His voice was even, unhurried. The kind that didn't compete with quiet, but belonged to it.
Anna glanced back out the window. The trees no longer felt like they were pressing inward. If anything, the road seemed gently guided, as though the forest itself had parted to make room.
"It's beautiful," she said.
Lucien's gaze flicked briefly to her reflection in the glass. "It is."
She didn't notice when her shoulders lowered. Only that the tension between her blades eased, her breath settling into a slower rhythm.
The road curved.
Then the car slowed.
Anna leaned forward slightly, her fingertips pressing to the cool glass.
She saw wood first.
Not a cabin.
A structure.
It rose from the trees like something grown rather than built—layered timber beams intersecting at elegant angles, darkened with age but meticulously preserved. The lines reminded her of Japanese temples she had seen in books: restrained, balanced, reverent.
And yet—
Threaded through that serenity were unmistakable Gothic elements.
Tall verticals. Narrow windows stretching upward like quiet prayers. Shadowed recesses that held the light just a second longer than expected. It wasn't ominous, but it wasn't entirely gentle either.
The car passed through what Anna assumed was a garage entrance.
Then she realized it wasn't.
It was a gate.
Two immense wooden doors, carved with patterns so intricate she couldn't tell where design ended and symbolism began, parted soundlessly as the vehicle approached. No guards. No chains. Just quiet obedience.
Two immense wooden doors rose from the stone, dark timber carved with patterns so fine they seemed to move as the light shifted across them. Vines traced their edges, not wild but deliberate, as though someone had decided exactly where nature was allowed to touch.
The doors parted soundlessly.
Anna leaned forward, eyes widening.
"Oh—"
Beyond the gate lay a world that made her forget the road behind her.
A courtyard unfolded in gentle layers: pale stone paths winding through moss and low flowering plants, water slipping through shallow channels cut into the ground, catching light and breaking it into silver threads. Trees arched overhead, their branches trained to curve rather than tangle, leaves trembling softly in the breeze.
The forest here didn't feel deep.
It felt inhabited.
Like something small and luminous might step out at any moment and vanish again.
Anna's lips parted in a quiet smile she didn't try to stop.
"This feels like…" She searched for the word, then laughed softly. "Like a fantasy park."
Lucien glanced at her, a flicker of amusement touching his eyes. "I've heard that before."
The car moved slowly through the grounds, almost ceremonially. Anna turned her head again and again, taking in glass walls half-hidden among trees, lanterns embedded into stone, the way light seemed to linger longer here, as if reluctant to leave.
Her fingers loosened in her lap.
She leaned closer to the window, excitement creeping into her movements—small, unguarded. She missed nothing now, her gaze bright, curious, alive.
By the time the car stopped, the last trace of unease had slipped away without argument.
The building rose before them.
Wooden beams framed the structure, dark and elegant, intersecting with vast panels of matte glass that caught the forest like a dream held just out of focus. The effect was unreal and refined at once—nothing rustic, nothing severe.
Anna let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
Lucien stepped out first.
She noticed then how naturally the space responded to him—the way doors opened without hesitation, how movement around him seemed to anticipate rather than react. He didn't look around. He didn't check his footing.
He belonged.
That, more than the architecture, caught her attention.
He offered his hand.
This time, she took it with a smile.
The air outside was cool and clean, brushing against her skin like a welcome. Water murmured somewhere nearby. Leaves whispered overhead.
As they walked toward the entrance, Anna's steps slowed—not from caution, but from reluctance to rush.
Inside, the space opened upward.
Wood arched above them in smooth, sweeping lines. Light poured in from every direction, filtered through glass and leaves, scattering across the floor in shifting patterns. The building felt alive—quietly breathing, warm, held.
Anna tilted her head back, turning slowly in place.
"It doesn't feel real," she murmured.
Lucien watched her, his expression softened by something like satisfaction. "It's meant to feel… removed."
"I like that," she said without hesitation.
They walked deeper inside, their footsteps muted by stone and wood. Corridors curved rather than cut, guiding them gently forward. Everything felt intentional. Nothing sharp. Nothing abrupt.
They stopped before a door.
"This will be your room," Lucien said.
She turned, surprised. "Mine?"
He opened it.
The space welcomed her at once.
Wide. Airy. A low bed framed in dark wood, soft fabrics layered in pale tones. One entire wall of glass looked out into the forest, the view softened just enough to feel private, intimate.
Sunlight drifted across the floor, leaves painting slow-moving patterns that felt almost playful.
Anna stepped inside, turning once, then again.
"And… " she asked, almost absently.
"I'm on a different level," Lucien replied. "Above."
She paused.
Then smiled.
Something warm settled into her chest, uncoiling completely. He was nothing like her ex.
Mia's words echoed effortlessly in her mind.
He's serious. He respects what he intends to keep.
Anna turned back to him, her posture open now, unguarded.
"I love it," she said.
Lucien inclined his head. "I'm glad."
When he left, the door closing softly behind him, Anna remained where she was, hands resting lightly at her sides.
She crossed to the glass wall and placed her palm against it, watching the forest move gently beyond.
Her reflection looked different here.
Calmer.
Brighter.
She straightened, smoothing her sleeves, a faint smile still playing at her lips.
Whatever distance lay between this place and the world she'd left behind no longer mattered.
She felt no need to look back anymore.
Only forward.