A song written by fate

Ashly

The ring didn’t belong to her.

She knew that the moment it slid onto her finger.

Cold.

Too cold.

As if it had been waiting—not to be worn, but to be found.

Ashly pulled it off immediately.

“...Weird.”

She stared at it for a second longer than necessary, then dropped it into her bag like it meant nothing.

Like it hadn’t just sent a strange chill up her spine.

Like it wasn’t going to matter later.

Few hour Earlier................

“A3. Window seat.”

The cracked edges of her phone screen caught the light as she stepped onto the bus.

A white sheet covered her seat neatly. A pillow rested against the window, a folded blanket beside it, along with two bottles of filtered water.

She placed her backpack in the overhead compartment and slid into her seat, pulling the blanket over herself as cool air drifted from the vents.

“Tch... I should’ve booked a flight,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “But how was I supposed to know that boss would suddenly give me a week off?”

She leaned her head against the cold glass.

“Bus rides always feel like a swinging cradle...”

The sunlight hit her eyes—she squeezed them shut instantly. When she opened them again, her gaze dropped to the river below.

It cut through the valley, glinting under the sun.

Her phone lit up.

Inbox—refresh.

Nothing.

She switched apps, scrolling until the trek booking page appeared. Her thumb hovered... then tapped confirm.

Her eyelids grew heavy.

A sudden jolt shook the bus.

By the time it stopped, the air had changed.

Cooler.

Sharper.

Ashly stepped down, boots touching the ground as a soft breeze brushed past her. She zipped her pink jacket up to her chin.

Snow-covered peaks rose beyond the town, their edges fading into drifting mist.

She paused.

Just for a second.

Then adjusted her bag.

The attendant handed down her suitcase. The weight dropped into her grip, pulling her slightly forward.

The town felt tucked away—hidden between mountains.

Narrow roads curved between houses painted in scarlet and jade, standing shoulder to shoulder like quiet companions.

Food stalls lined the streets. Steam curled into the air.

The hotel sat above a long stretch of stone steps.

Ashly stared up at it.

“...You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She exhaled, then began dragging her suitcase upward—one step at a time.

Her backpack felt heavier with each step. Her breathing followed.

Slow. Then heavier.

Then a little uneven.

Halfway up, she noticed an orchard beside the stairs.

Unripe apples hung quietly from the branches—small, pale, and waiting.

The sound of water drifted nearby, soft enough to blend with her breath.

At the top, the hotel doors caught sunlight, scattering faint rainbows across the ground.

She pushed one open and stepped inside.

Warmth.

Wood.

Pine.

A carved peacock stood near the counter, its colored feathers catching the light.

The check-in process went smoothly and fast. The receptionist asked, “Your ID, please.”

“Here,” she answered, sliding the ID on the counter.

The guy nodded, granting her a soft smile back.

After a few signatures, the key was slid across the counter. A staff member from the hotel led Ashly to her room. The room waited quietly for her, a bed tucked neatly against the wall. However, the window caught her attention—a humongous piece of glass that covered almost an entire wall.

She slid the door open and stepped outside onto the balcony. From there, the entire town spread out below her—tiny, colorful houses. Behind it, a dense forest climbed the mountain. Below, the same narrow river wound through the valley—the one she had heard on the climb.

Her hand landed on her stomach as it rumbled with hunger. She stepped back inside, shut the door behind her, and headed down the narrow lane in search of something to eat. A small sign painted with steamed buns hung outside a shop.

“Can I get one steamed bun, please?” she asked.

The man gazed at her for a while, the reflection of the sun caught in his blue eyes.

“I am not the shopkeeper,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh!” Ashly let out a breath. “Forgive me—I assumed you were the shopkeeper.”

“I am just guarding the stall,” he said politely. “The owner will be here soon. Can you wait for a moment?”

Ashly nodded, offering him a small, warm smile.

A small silver piercing glinted at the corner of his lips as he spoke. He ran a hand through his hair, brushing it back, his gaze easing as it lingered on her. He stood without shifting, shoulders relaxed, his posture steady.

Before another word could pass between them, the shop owner returned. The man gave her brief, sharp nod and walked down the street. Ashly watched him until he turned the corner of the alley.

The first bite hit her with the hot steam on her tongue; she tried to blow the hot sensation away, but it was too late for that. She laughed under her breath. She continued her walk towards town.

"If you were her, would you have tried to talk to him again?” I’d love to hear your thoughts. 🤍