Page 150 of Dream On, Liar

Just her.

Then she looked back down at the book, and when she spoke, it had been barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

I started the car again. “You’re welcome.”

She smiled into the pages, thumb already tracing the first fact like she was anchoring herself to something that didn’t hurt.

And for the first time since I’d found her on that floor, the silence between us didn’t feel like something breaking.

It felt like something holding.

26

Rihaan

THE ROAD NARROWED LONG before the cabin came into view.

The last stretch was little more than a winding strip of tarmac threading through dense woodland, the trees crowding close on either side as though they had decided the road had no business being there in the first place. Branches tangled overhead, dark against the fading evening light, and the further we drove, the quieter everything became.

Maeve had barely spoken for the last twenty minutes.

She sat curled into the passenger seat, cheek resting against the window, watching the trees pass in fractured reflections. Every so often, the glass caught her face for a second before the shadows swallowed it again.

I kept one hand on the wheel.

The other rested loosely near the gearshift.

I wanted to say something.

I didn’t know what.

Anything I could offer felt too small after what had happened.

So I drove.

Then the trees opened.

The cabin appeared at the end of a long wooden walkway, tucked into the forest as though it had grown there rather than been built.

It wasn't the sort of place I'd ever described properly to anyone.

From the outside, it looked almost severe in places. Dark timber ran along the upper level, broken by rough stone chimneys that rose above the roof line. Wide glass windows stretched beneath the pitched roof, glowing amber now that the evening had settled in. The lower level was built from thick logs and stone, with broad doors opening onto a wooden deck.

A shallow stream ran along one side of the property, catching the last grey light between the trees.

I pulled into the driveway.

The engine went quiet.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Maeve looked out through the windscreen. “This is yours?”

“Technically.”

She turned towards me.

“What does technically mean?”