The town was the kind of quiet that felt like judgment.

Everyone knew everyone. Everyone talked. But no one ever talked to Liana unless they had to.

She liked it that way.

At “Mora’s”—the only café with decent coffee and a heater that worked half the time—she sat by the window, sipping from a chipped mug, pretending not to hear the whispers behind her. She was used to it by now.

“That girl’s always alone.”

“Heard she used to be different, before—”

“No one just lives up on the cliffs for no reason…”

Liana stirred her coffee slowly. The clink of the spoon was sharper than their voices.

She didn’t glance back. She didn’t need to. If she had a coin for every story the town spun about her, she’d have enough to leave—and never look back.

But for some reason, she stayed.

Maybe it was the cliff. Maybe it was the sea.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because of the boy who stood there yesterday—so still, like he belonged to the fog.

She hadn’t seen him before. And in this town, new meant dangerous or temporary. Usually both.

She told herself it didn’t matter.

But when she stepped outside, the wind sharp against her face, she paused.

Across the street, half-hidden by an alley, he stood again.

Watching.

Liana didn't stop. She didn’t speak. But for just a breath, her heartbeat didn’t feel like her own.