Snow capped the peak beneath her feet, a soft, untouched layer that shimred faintly under the pale light of dawn. The air was thin, crisp, carrying a stillness that felt almost sacred. From where she stood, she could tell this was not the highest point of the mountain—the true peak rose behind her, quiet and imposing—but what lay ahead held her attention completely.
Slopes stretched outward, covered in dense pine forests, their dark green dusted with white. The landscape unfolded in gentle curves and distant ridges, serene and untouched.
Catherine stilled.
She had seen this before.
Not here, not in this life—but sowhere deeper, sowhere buried beneath mory and ti.
Dravencourt.
The resemblance was too striking to ignore. The slopes, the trees, even the way the light touched the land—it stirred sothing familiar, sothing that tightened softly around her chest.
She turned to look at Maximilian, a quiet awe settling in her expression.
How had he found a place like this?
The question lingered at the edge of her thoughts. She had wondered before if he had searched for traces of their past, if his choices in this life were shaped by what he rembered. Even his profession—had he chosen it to uncover fragnts of what they had once been?
Perhaps she should ask him.
"Look over there," Maximilian said, breaking into her thoughts.
Catherine followed the direction of his gaze.
And then she saw it.
In the distance, nestled within a clearing surrounded by forest, stood a castle. Built of stone, solid and tiless, it rose from the landscape as though it had always belonged there, as though the mountain itself had shaped around it.
A castle.
She turned back to him, surprise flickering across her face. "It’s yours?" she asked.
Maximilian smiled, the answer already in his eyes. "Ours," he corrected gently. "We could have taken a helicopter, but the weather isn’t cooperating today."
Catherine tilted her head, a playful glint returning to her expression. "I’m sure that’s the only reason," she said, her tone teasing.
"You—" Maximilian stepped toward her, but she was quicker, letting out a light laugh as she slipped away and hurried back toward the car.
By the ti he reached her, she was already inside, still smiling to herself.
He followed, settling beside her, his hand finding hers instinctively.
"It’s cold," he said, rubbing his thumb gently over her fingers. "During fall, this place looks even more unreal."
Catherine looked at him, her curiosity deepening rather than fading.
This was not coincidence.
Not for him.
Not for them.
There was sothing behind this choice, sothing he had not yet said.
Beside her, Maximilian watched her quietly.
He had expected more—wonder, excitent, sothing that matched what he felt bringing her here. Instead, her reaction had been softer, more inward, as though she was trying to grasp sothing just out of reach.
He didn’t press.
He knew she was rembering, slowly, in fragnts that ca and went without warning.
And perhaps...
She simply needed ti.
-----
Samantha Preston lounged on the balcony of her ho, curled into her favorite hanging egg chair—the kind made of curved steel, suspended like a cocoon, swaying ever so slightly with the breeze. One leg draped over the edge, she flipped lazily through a fashion magazine, though her eyes barely registered the pages.
The quiet had been dangerous these past few days.
Every ti she was alone, the tears ca—slow at first, then uncontrollable, spilling over everything she tried to hold together. She had grieved deeply, painfully, for a love she had once believed in with her whole heart.
A love that, she now knew, had never deserved her.
She understood that.
She truly did.
And yet... understanding did not make it hurt any less.
Her fingers stilled over the glossy page. For a mont, her vision blurred again, but she blinked it away, pressing her lips together as she forced the ache back down.
No more.
That Chapter was over.
Samantha straightened slightly, a quiet resolve settling into her chest.
She would not fall in love again. She would not hand over her heart so easily, not wrap it up and offer it like sothing fragile and precious, only to watch it be crushed without care.
Never again.
With that firm decision anchoring her, she reached for her laptop and pulled it onto her lap. The screen lit up, reflecting faintly in her eyes as she began searching for job opportunities.
She did have a position for her in the family company.
But the thought of it felt... dull.
Predictable.
At twenty-five, still living under her parents’ roof, still moving within the sa familiar spaces, it suddenly felt stifling in a way it never had before. How long was she going to depend on her Preston na?
She wanted sothing different.
Sothing that was hers.
She imagined it as she scrolled—an apartnt in a busy city, sunlight filtering through tall windows, a wardrobe she chose for herself every morning, makeup scattered across a small vanity. A life where she stepped out on her own terms, rode to work on a bike instead of sitting in traffic or squeezing into crowded buses.
Freedom.
And work—real work.
She had once tried to follow in her aunt’s footsteps, to match Catherine’s brilliance, but she had co to terms with the truth. She wasn’t Catherine.
And that was fine.
She would find her own place instead.
Sothing simple, sothing honest. A receptionist, perhaps. A barista—though that required skill she didn’t yet have. Bartending was out of the question. Her degree in business managent sat quietly in the background, useful but not sothing she felt tied to anymore.
She just wanted to start sowhere.
Anywhere.
With surprising determination, Samantha signed up on a job portal, fumbling slightly as she uploaded her resu, fixing formats, rechecking details, and navigating through things she had never bothered doing herself before.
It took longer than it should have.
But when she finally clicked submit, she leaned back into the chair and stretched, a small, satisfied smile forming on her lips.
It wasn’t much.
But it was a start.
And for the first ti in days, she felt just a little lighter.
When Samantha ca downstairs, she imdiately spotted her mother deep in conversation with Sophia. One glance at their expressions, leaning in, voices lowered, and eyes bright with interest.
Which ant...
Samantha didn’t even hesitate.
She hurried over and dropped herself into the seating area as if she had been invited all along, ignoring the twin glares from her mother and aunt. Without a trace of guilt, she reached for the wine, helped herself to a cube of cheese, and curled into the lounge chair with her knees tucked up against her chest, settling in like she fully intended to stay.
Sophia noticed her first but chose to continue, turning back to Miranda with a conspiratorial smile. "She would know," she said, her tone dropping slightly, as if sharing a delicious secret. "Do you think Cathy’s wedding could be a white wedding?"
Samantha blinked.
For a brief second, she was thrown off, until it clicked.
Oh.
They were talking about Catherine’s wedding.
Her aunt.
Her younger aunt.
Getting married.
There was a mont—small, sharp—where sothing twisted in her chest. She almost stood up, almost walked away, before it could settle into sothing uglier.
But curiosity won.
It always did.
"Of course it’s going to be a white wedding," Samantha said, cutting in before either of them could continue, her tone breezy as she took another sip of wine. "Does she look like soone interested in the pleasures of mortals?"
Miranda rolled her eyes imdiately. "Have you seen the way Maximilian looks at her?" she countered pointedly.
There was a pause.
A aningful one.
Samantha raised her brows, slowly chewing as she considered that.
That... was a valid argunt.
Still, she waved it off with a dismissive flick of her hand. "Whatever. Ivory would suit her more than pure white. Softer. More elegant. You know that, don’t you, Aunt Soph?"
Sophia sighed, though there was a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I thought so too," she admitted, before her gaze shifted, sharpening slightly as it landed on Samantha. "What about you? What are you planning to do now?"
Samantha straightened imdiately, as if she had been waiting for that question.
"I’m getting a job in the city," she declared, clenching her fists and striking what she clearly believed was a determined, independent pose.
There was a beat of silence.
Then both Miranda and Sophia sighed in perfect unison.
"Co on, Sammy. Be serious."
Samantha’s face fell into an exaggerated pout. "I am serious!" she insisted, her voice rising just enough to make it clear she wasn’t joking this ti.
-----
The car carrying Maximilian and Catherine wound its way down the narrowing mountain road, descending slowly from the higher ridges. By the ti they reached the base of the slope where the castle stood, the sky had shifted, and noon had settled quietly over the landscape.
Snow had begun to fall again.
Not heavily, but steadily—soft flakes drifting down as the temperature dipped further, wrapping the world in a pale, muted hush.
The car ca to a stop.
Maximilian stepped out first, the cold air rushing in briefly before he moved around to open her door. Catherine followed, drawing her thick coat closer around herself the mont she stepped out of the warmth.
The chill hit instantly.
Sharp.
Unforgiving.
A shiver ran through her despite the layers, her breath turning faintly visible in the air as she adjusted to the cold.
She had never liked snow.
Not in her past life.
Not in this one.
There was sothing about it—the stillness, the biting cold—that never quite settled comfortably within her.
Maximilian, on the other hand, watched her with quiet amusent, a small smile playing at his lips. There were very few things in the world that held his attention the way Catherine did.
Snow happened to be one of them.
And yet, even in that, they were different.
Catherine took a mont, steadying herself, pushing past the discomfort. Then she lifted her gaze.
And saw it.
The castle stood before her, closer now, no longer a distant silhouette but sothing real, sothing imnse. Stone walls rose against the pale sky, dusted with fresh snow, the structure both imposing and strangely serene, as if it had been waiting there long before they arrived.
Her breath caught.
For a second, she forgot the cold entirely.
Sothing in her chest tightened, unfamiliar and overwhelming, as though the sight had reached into a place she hadn’t fully uncovered yet.
Her eyes stung.
And before she could stop it...
They filled with tears.
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