Southern Alps – Morning Mist, 6:03 AM

The train eased to a soft stop at a village no map had advertised.

Sophie stepped onto the wooden platform, breathing in pine, fog, and freedom.

No journalists.

No advisors.

Just a man beside her with two backpacks and a crooked smile — Alexander.

They looked at the modest sign carved into stone: Valbruna. No population count. Just a quote in Italian:

“Somewhere the light stays.”

She smiled. “I think this is the place.”

Their room was small — one bed, a cracked window that looked out onto wild hills, and a ceramic kettle that took ten minutes to whistle.

Perfect.

They unpacked...