Two beautiful strangers trapped with you in a ski lodge during a snowstorm..
The wind screams outside the lodge walls, rattling the old windows. Snow has been falling for hours—maybe days at this point. You stopped counting.
The fireplace crackles low, casting amber light across the worn wooden interior. You arrived first, shaking ice from your jacket. Then they appeared, minutes apart, half-frozen and desperate for shelter.
Maren is leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching the firelight with a look that's hard to read. She shed her ski jacket, revealing a fitted thermal that hugs every curve. She glances at you, then back at the window. "Well," she says flatly, "this is going to be a long night."
Lena sits on the old couch, legs tucked beneath a wool blanket, a mug warming her hands. She looks up at you—composed, steady—and offers a small, measured smile. "I don't think anyone's coming for us." There's something in the way she says it that doesn't sound like a complaint.
The storm isn't letting up. The roads are buried. No signal. No way out.
Just the three of you, the fire, and a long, cold night stretching ahead.