Chapter Two - The Light in the Storm
900 Words
Michelle Brown’s heart beat faster with every step she took toward the cabin.
The wind howled louder here, slicing through her coat and scarf, biting at her skin as though trying to chase her back into the dark. Snow crunched beneath her boots, thick and heavy, threatening to swallow her whole if she slowed down too much.
Her thoughts spiraled.
This is reckless.
You don’t know who lives there.
You shouldn’t be walking into a stranger’s home in the middle of a storm.
But the cold was merciless. And standing still wasn’t an option.
Her phone vibrated in her hand.
Michelle froze. Relief surged through her chest—maybe it was a signal, maybe help—but when she looked down, her stomach dropped.
Battery: 3%.
Her breath hitched.
“No,” she whispered, tapping the screen uselessly. The cold had already slowed it down, the brightness dimming as though the device itself was surrendering to the storm.
Not only was she lost.
Not only was her car dead.
But now—any moment—her phone would die too.
A sharp wave of fear crawled up her spine.
She stopped walking.
The cabin was still a short distance ahead, its warm glow flickering through the falling snow. Behind her was nothing but darkness, endless trees, and the faint outline of the road she had stumbled away from.
She turned in a slow circle, panic tightening her chest.
You should’ve listened.
You should’ve turned back when the officer warned you.
For the first time since she left the city, doubt sank its claws into her. What if this was a mistake? What if she was walking straight into danger?
Her gaze flicked back to the cabin—and that was when she saw it.
A shadow moved behind the curtain.
Small.
Short.
A child.
Michelle squinted through the snow, her heart stuttering. The shape darted across the light, unmistakably quick, unmistakably young.
A child meant people.
People meant warmth.
Safety.
And families—especially during Christmas—didn’t usually hurt strangers.
She released a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“Okay,” she murmured to herself. “Okay… you can do this.”
Her phone buzzed once more. The screen went black.
Dead.
Michelle clenched it in her gloved hand anyway, as if sheer will could bring it back to life, then tucked it into her coat pocket. She adjusted her grip on her suitcase and resumed walking, her steps quicker now, urgency propelling her forward.
The closer she got, the clearer the cabin became. Snow piled thick on the roof, icicles clinging to the edges. Soft yellow lights glowed through the windows, warm and inviting against the brutal cold. It looked lived-in. Loved. Decorated for the holidays.
She stopped at the front door.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she took in a deep breath, steadying herself. Her fingers hovered just inches from the wood.
Just knock.
Just ask for help.
She knocked once.
Nothing.
The wind answered instead, rattling the trees and hurling snow against her back.
She knocked again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
Her pulse began to race again. Had she imagined the shadow? Had the lights been left on by someone who wasn’t home?
She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder into the dark forest behind her. Turning back wasn’t an option anymore.
Swallowing hard, she knocked a third time.
In seconds, the door flew open.
Michelle jumped back instinctively, her heart leaping into her throat.
Standing there was a little girl.
A cute little girl.
Must have been her shadow she saw earlier.
She couldn’t have been more than five or six years old, wrapped in a fluffy sweater with cartoon reindeer on it, her dark curls bouncing around her face. Her big eyes widened in surprise as she stared up at Michelle.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Before Michelle could even find her voice—before she could smile, explain, reassure—the girl spun around and shouted into the cabin, her voice bright and excited.
“Daddy! There’s a woman at the door!”
Michelle’s breath caught.
Daddy.
Her stomach twisted sharply as footsteps approached—slow, heavy, unmistakably adult. The little girl stepped aside, grinning, completely unaware of the way Michelle’s stomach trembled with anxiety.
Hope her daddy was nice?
Hope he wouldn't mind having a stranger stay for the night?
"Daisy, I have told you never to answer the door."
Michelle heard his voice say. It sounded somewhat familiar.
Like someone she knew.
And then he appeared.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Familiar in a way that felt cruel.
Jeremiah Carter stood in the doorway.
Her ex.
Her first love.
The man she hadn’t seen—or allowed herself to think about—in ten years.
And suddenly, the storm outside felt quieter than the one crashing inside her chest.
“Michelle?” he said finally when his gaze met hers.
His voice was low, incredulous.
Her heart dropped straight into her stomach.
Of all the towns.
Of all the cabins.
Of all people.
It has to be the one occupied by Jeremiah Carter.
Ten years of silence pressed between them.
Neither of them knew what to say.
And Michelle realized, with a sharp, sinking certainty, that her carefully planned escape had just led her straight into the one place she had never wanted to return to.
Him.
- Writer
