PIGEON

CHAPTER ONE

Aira

The winding road curled through the trees like a ribbon unravelling through memory. Each turn brought with it the scent of damp earth and rain-kissed leaves, rich and raw and alive. The smell clung to me, stirred something deep—something I hadn’t let myself feel in years. It was grounding in the way grief sometimes is. Quiet. Heavy. Honest.

My bullterrier’s steady panting behind me was a strange comfort, a reminder of home, though I wasn’t quite sure where “home” existed anymore. His warm breath brushed the back of my neck, rhythmic and present, as if he, too, was trying to tell me: You’re not alone.Not completely.

“We’re almost there, boy,” I murmured. My voice sounded distant in the stillness of the car, like it belonged to someone else. He didn’t look at me, just kept his gaze fixed out the window, ears alert, tail flicking now and then as the trees passed us by. Maybe he sensed it too—that something was shifting. That we were on the cusp of something new. Or maybe that was just me projecting. Lately, I wasn’t sure I could tell the difference.

I didn’t really know what had brought me here. Not in the neat, explainable way people want to hear. I couldn’t sum it up in a sentence or trace it to a moment of clarity. All I knew was that everything in my life had felt like a slow fraying, and somewhere in the middle of that came this place. Ariel Peak. A name that sounded like fiction. A resort hidden deep in a coastal forest, a world away from the noise I was trying to forget.

I parked at the edge of a gravel circle, letting the car idle for a moment before cutting the engine. The silence that followed felt thick, expectant. The mansion ahead was breathtaking—white and sprawling, stately without being cold. It should’ve intimidated me, but it didn’t. Not really. Instead, it felt like a pause between heartbeats. The apartment across from it, quieter and less polished, was mine. It looked like a place made for catching your breath.

I stepped out of the car and drew in the coastal breeze. Cool and clean, it kissed my skin like a benediction. I wanted to believe it meant something—that the air itself was trying to welcome me back to myself.

And then I saw him.

A figure stepped out from the mansion, and I went still.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair that caught the sun like a flame held too long. His skin was golden, and the way he moved was casual, confident in a way I’d forgotten people could be. He wore a fitted black T-shirt and jeans, and it should’ve been ordinary—but on him, it felt like a statement. Then he got closer, and I saw his eyes. Green. Sharp. Not cold, but not warm either. He looked like someone who saw everything and said little.

And then—his smile.

God. Dimples. I felt my breath stutter.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the muscle breed,” he said, his voice rich with amusement, eyes sliding to Cassius.

It took me a moment to find my footing, to pull my mind out of whatever strange haze I’d slipped into. I looked at Cassius, who sat wagging like the happy boy he was, and let out a soft laugh.

“Yeah, don’t let the look fool you,” I said. “He’s a total goofball.”

The man—Miguel, smiled and handed me a set of keys.

“Well, let’s get on with it then.”

It was so casual, so simple, and yet I felt like I was stepping into something more than just an apartment.

As we walked to the door, he added, “Your stuff arrived yesterday. I had the staff set up most of it. Left the boxes marked ‘clothes’ and ‘personal’ for you.”

I nodded, grateful. I didn’t want strangers touching the fragments of myself I still hadn’t figured out.

The apartment opened like a held breath. Sunlight filtered through wide windows, painting the lounge in soft gold. White couches, glass doors, a patio shaded by a tree so old it felt like it had stories to tell. The kitchen was untouched—sleek, minimalist, almost too perfect. Like no one had lived here yet. Like no one knew how.

“That room’s yours,” Miguel said, pointing to a door off the lounge. “I’m upstairs.”

The bedroom took me by surprise. It was vast—quietly luxurious in a way that didn’t shout. My bed looked dwarfed by the space. A vanity waited in the far corner, graceful and intimidating. To the side, sliding doors opened into a bathroom straight from a magazine: claw-foot tub, marble, light spilling in like something sacred.

Still, I looked around, as if something were missing.

Miguel noticed. “They’re in the closet,” he said.

I followed his gesture to a blank wall with a painting. Before I could ask, he stepped forward and gently pushed—it swung open, revealing a walk-in closet that could have belonged to someone else. Someone whole.

“Looks like I’ll need more clothes,” I muttered, half-heartedly.

He laughed. I didn’t. Not really.

Cassius burst in then, spinning excited circles on the floor like a child seeing snow for the first time. I smiled, the real kind, the involuntary kind.

“Goofball, huh?” Miguel smirked.

I shrugged, amused. We stepped back into the lounge, and I noticed the flat-screen on the wall—so perfectly placed it almost felt like a set piece.

“I’ve got some errands,” Miguel said, keys in hand. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Let me show you around later?”

I hesitated.

I hadn’t come here to meet anyone. I wasn’t looking for connections or company. I was trying to disappear—quietly, carefully. But this... this wasn’t a commitment. Just a walk. Just a map.

I nodded.

He smiled again—something curious behind it—and left.

As soon as the door closed behind him, I stepped outside. Onto the patio. Into the air.

The scent of salt hung thick, and the breeze whispered across my skin. I leaned against the railing and looked out.

To the right, nestled between the trees, I spotted an elegant restaurant. Music drifted up from it, soft and distant. The kind of music that plays in dreams you only half remember.

But it was the ocean that caught me.

It stretched beyond the tree line, an endless mirror under a sky so wide it made my chest ache. The sun danced on the surface, gentle and constant.

And there, for the first time in what felt like forever, something inside me quieted.

A flicker of peace. Real, if only for a moment.

Maybe that’s all I needed to begin.