The soft, biting chill of morning seeped into Arya's bones as she woke to the haunting, silencing quiet of the snowy landscape outside. The events of last night still lingered in her mind like a cloud she couldn't shake—memories of the midnight howl, the deep rumble of it that seemed to vibrate through her chest. It didn't make sense. Was it just the wind? The forest? Or something else entirely?
She stared at the ceiling, trying to dismiss the feeling clawing at her gut, but it was no use. The dream was still fresh. The sensation of being watched, of something ancient stirring in the snow, didn't feel like a product of imagination. But she couldn't afford to dwell on it—not now. Today, she needed to focus on Rihaan.
Her boyfriend. Or, at least, the man she thought she was with.
She turned her thoughts away from the inexplicable ache and rubbed her tired eyes. The day had arrived, and she'd promised to make it special. Today was Rihaan's birthday, and nothing would spoil that—no matter how torn she felt inside.
As the rest of the group began stirring, Arya felt a strange sense of disconnection. It was as though she was an outsider looking in at the world, moving through the motions. The others were excited to explore the forest, laughing, playing, taking selfies in the snow, but Arya's mind was elsewhere. It wasn't that she didn't want to be part of the fun—it was just that something inside her felt... off.
After breakfast, the group bundled up and prepared for a day of hiking through the snowy wilderness. Arya, however, was distant, watching from the window as they gathered their gear. She should be excited—this place was beautiful in a way that took your breath away—but she couldn't shake the eerie feeling crawling beneath her skin.
Something about this place wasn't right.
The Cabin Keeper's Warning
They'd ventured further into the dense trees when they encountered the cabin keeper—an old man with a weathered face, dark eyes that seemed to look right through them. His voice, low and raspy, stopped them in their tracks as he approached.
"You shouldn't go deeper into the woods," he warned, his tone grave.
Arya glanced around at the others. They laughed it off, assuming it was just another local story to spook tourists. But there was something in the way the man spoke—something in his eyes—that made Arya uneasy.
The old man continued. "There's a creature in these woods, something that hunts. A werewolf. Been here for decades. Lives for more than a hundred years. No one who ventures too far into these woods ever comes back."
The group snickered, brushing off his words as nothing more than folklore. The air felt heavy, thick with the weight of his warning, but Arya couldn't help the sensation creeping up her spine—a mixture of dread and curiosity. Was it just a story? Or was there some truth buried beneath it?
"Not all silence is peace," the old man muttered, almost to himself, before retreating back into his cabin. The words lingered in Arya's mind, lingering like the faint scent of something familiar she couldn't quite place. Peace. It had never felt further from her reach.
The Secret Surprise
That afternoon, Arya excused herself from the group's exploration. She told them she had some "work" to catch up on. They didn't question her, too busy with their own fun to notice her growing distance.
But there was something Arya had to do. Something that had been on her mind for days.
She and Isha sneaked off to one of the unused rooms, where Arya began setting up the surprise. Her heart beat with anticipation as she carefully arranged a small cake, lit candles, and placed a tape recorder on the table to capture Rihaan's reaction. She wanted to remember this moment forever—the look in his eyes when she surprised him, when he saw how much she cared. It wasn't much, but it was a moment she hoped would be theirs, a memory that would forever be theirs.
Isha smiled knowingly. "He's going to love it, Arya," she said softly. "It's perfect."
Arya nodded, though the flutter of excitement in her chest was faint, overshadowed by the gnawing ache in her gut. Something felt wrong. The pull of the unknown, of that deep voice she'd heard last night, tugged at her insides.
The Midnight Surprise
That night, as the group settled in for the evening, Arya excused herself again. She didn't need to explain where she was going.
The others didn't question it—Rihaan was busy chatting with Meera, and Arya didn't have the energy to pretend everything was normal. She wasn't going to let him ruin the night, not when she'd worked so hard to make it special for him.
At midnight, Arya quietly slipped from her room, carefully carrying the recorder, her hands shaking just a little. She made her way toward Rihaan's cabin, the snow crunching beneath her boots, the world eerily silent except for the distant rustle of trees.
But as she approached, the sight she found stopped her in her tracks.
There, through the open window, she saw Rihaan and Meera—locked in a passionate embrace, his hands tangled in her hair, their lips meeting in a kiss.
Arya froze, her heart breaking into a thousand jagged pieces. She didn't move. Didn't make a sound. She could feel the sting of betrayal—raw, consuming, sharp.
Her fingers curled around the recorder in her hand, but she couldn't bring herself to press play. This wasn't the moment she had imagined. The surprise. The joy.
It was gone.
The Walk Into the Cold
With a heavy heart, Arya turned away, stepping back into the snow, the world around her cold and indifferent. The tears she hadn't been able to shed the night before finally began to fall, cold against her flushed skin. She walked aimlessly, the snow falling heavier, the world around her more silent than ever.
She didn't know where she was going. All she could hear was the thudding of her broken heart and the faint howl she thought she'd heard before—far away, almost like it was calling to her.
"Not all silence is peace," she whispered, the words from the old man echoing in her mind, as she walked deeper into the forest.
The snow crunched beneath her feet, but it didn't make her feel any less alone. The silence wrapped around her like a heavy cloak, the weight of it pressing down on her chest.
Her name echoed, barely audible, from deep in the trees.
Arya.
She paused, her breath catching in her throat. The sound wasn't real. It couldn't be. She shook her head, but the feeling—the sensation of being watched—wouldn't leave.
The full moon illuminated the forest, casting an ethereal glow on the snow. It looked peaceful, serene—but Arya knew better. The world around her felt like it was holding its breath, as if waiting for something to happen.
And then, in the distance, the howl came again.
Louder this time.
She couldn't shake the feeling that the forest was watching her. That something—or someone—was waiting in the shadows.
The night had only just begun.