Chapter 1

Kara's POV

I stood by my car, my eyes fixed on the old cabin that was meant to be my new home.

The sight of its deteriorated state sent a wave of anxiety sweeping through me, making me more nervous than I already was.

The once vibrant paint on the exterior was now peeling off in huge chunks, revealing the worn-out wood beneath. It was evident that the cabin had been abandoned for a long time.

With cautious steps, I approached the front door, clutching my sweater tightly. I reached out and grasped the corroded doorknob, half-expecting it to crumble in my hand but to my surprise,it was still steady. I pushed the door open and a gust of dust whooshed past me.

The dusty air assaulted my lungs as I stepped into the cabin, triggering a fit of coughing that echoed through the empty rooms. I hastily covered my mouth with my sleeve, trying to shield myself from the suffocating air that wafted around.

Casting a weary glance around, I realized the task at hand was more intimidating than I had anticipated. The thick layer of dust coated every surface, obscuring the once vibrant colors of the walls and leaving behind a ghostly pallor. Cobwebs clung to every nook and cranny, as if nature itself had claimed this place for its own.

Each creaking step I took across the floor filled me with dread.. It felt as though the floorboards might give way beneath my weight at any moment. Moving through the living area, my eyes fell upon a sizable stone fireplace that stood as a reminder of the cabin's once cozy atmosphere. Now, it lay cold and neglected, damp with mold.

The overwhelming urge to turn back and return to my former life tugged at me, threatening to pull me away from this desolate place. I wanted to go back home and forget all about this. But I knew there was no home left for me there. The familiar had become unfamiliar, and I had to make the best of this new situation, as foreign and daunting as it seemed.

As I stood amidst the decaying remnants of my new home, I wondered why Aurora had chosen this remote and aged refuge. Was she seeking simplicity and a rustic escape from the clamor and chaos of modern society? Or maybe her illness had compelled her to embrace nature, to find solace and healing in the midst of the wilderness. Whatever her reasons, I was determined to honor her memory and fulfill her dream of living here.

Sighing softly, I retraced my steps to the car and retrieved the cleaning supplies I had brought along. I knew that a few days of cleaning wouldn't immediately render the cabin livable, but I was determined to make an effort.

Standing as a solitary figure amidst the woods, the cabin exuded a tranquil aura. The rustling leaves, the melodic chirping of birds, and the gentle babbling of a nearby brook provided the peace and serenity I craved. It was the perfect sanctuary to escape the noise and stress of the city, allowing me to reconnect with nature.

Carefully reentering the cabin, avoiding the treacherous creaks of the floor, I embarked on the task of cleaning my newfound home. Dust and cobwebs seemed to coat every surface, presenting a formidable challenge. I started by tackling the windows, scrubbing away the grime until the glass shimmered in the sunlight. The transformation was already visible as the cabin began to regain a glimmer of its former glory.

Moving on to the floors, I swept away years of accumulated debris and dust. Each stroke of the broom brought a renewed sense of accomplishment, as if I were clearing away the past and making space for a fresh start. The musty air began to dissipate, replaced by a faint hint of cleanliness.

Hours passed, and I found myself sinking onto the floor, utterly spent from the intense cleaning session. My body ached with fatigue, but a sense of satisfaction welled up within me. The progress I had made was tangible, and I allowed myself a moment to appreciate the transformation. The floors were swept, the windows gleamed, and a semblance of order had emerged.

Aurora had always been stickler for cleanliness and held high standards for tidiness and organization. I took pride in the progress I had made, knowing she would have been proud. In our previous home in Greenwood, she had insisted on daily cleaning rituals, tirelessly scrubbing and dusting until every corner gleamed.

Our differing views on cleanliness often led to disagreements, but in that moment, I longed for her presence and her commanding directives. The void she left behind weighed heavily on my heart, and I missed her immensely. I couldn't help but imagine how much she would have adored this cabin, with its rustic allure and comforting ambiance. It felt wrong being here without her.

The grief for her was still raw and untamed, and it tugged at me, threatening to pull me back into the comfort of the past.

With the day taking its toll, weariness settled into my bones. The darkness outside crept in, signaling the time to rest. I packed away the cleaning supplies and stepped outside to inhale the cool night air. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a gentle glow on the world around me.

Under the radiant moonlight, I looked up at the twinkling stars, their ethereal beauty captivating my gaze. In the stillness of the night, a whisper seemed to drift on the breeze, echoing Aurora's last words, "I'll always watch over you, Kara. Always." A mixture of solace and sorrow filled my heart as tears welled in my eyes.

"I miss you so much," I murmured, my voice laden with longing. "I've made it to Maplewood, just as you wanted. But it's not the same without you." A tear traced a solitary path down my cheek, marking the first I had shed since her departure.

In my mind's eye, her gentle face materialized, wearied yet still radiantly beautiful. I could almost feel her delicate touch as she brushed away my tears, offering comfort amid my sorrow.

The pain within my chest throbbed, a constant reminder of the void her absence had left behind. Some days it was a searing ache, stealing my breath away, while on others, like today, it simmered as a persistent, heavy ache that refused to dissipate. No matter how I tried to distract myself, grief remained an unwelcome companion, lurking just beneath the surface.

Retreating to my car, I sank into the driver's seat with a mixture of exhaustion and longing. I reclined the seat as far back as it would go, attempting to find comfort in the cramped space. But the hard seat and confined surroundings denied me a restful reprieve. Tossing and turning, I yearned for a proper bed in which I could find solace and a restful sleep. But this would have to do until I made arrangements for a bed.

My exhaustion eventually took over, and I succumbed to sleep's embrace, my dreams and reality merging in a bittersweet tapestry of nostalgia and longing.

In that ethereal world, Aurora's laughter echoed through the air, filling the cabin with warmth and brightness

I was happy. And that's what really mattered.