Two days later, an SUV rolled to a stop at the end of a long, winding dirt road.
Lori stared out the window, her breath catching in her throat. Before her stretched a small farmhouse, nestled in a valley surrounded by rolling hills and dense forest. The house was modest but well-maintained—white walls, a red tin roof, a wraparound porch that seemed to invite quiet evenings and slow mornings.
Beyond the house, the land stretched wide and open, fields of wild grass swaying in the breeze. A small stream meandered through the property, its waters glinting in the afternoon sun. And in the distance, the forest rose—dark, ancient, welcoming.
Lori let out a long breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
Attia said nothing.
He sat beside her, his hands
