Chapter 1 Aria
If I had a penny for every time my mom said “fresh start,” I’d probably have enough to buy a lifetime supply of chocolate or at least pay someone to explain why moving to Silverpine seemed like a good idea. The car rattled over the uneven road with trees leaning in on both sides like nosy neighbours. I pressed my forehead against the window. Maybe it was nerves but I couldn’t stop thinking the forest was watching me.
Mom hummed along to some upbeat song, smiling like this was an adventure instead of a relocation. “Try to keep an open mind, Aria,” she said, eyes sparkling. “Silverpine is beautiful. Peaceful and exactly what we need.”
I ignored her, she glanced at me, eyebrows raised but didn’t argue. That was Mom’s thing, optimism stitched into every word. Divorce? A chance to rediscover herself? Losing her job? It was always a fresh start. Moving me into the middle of nowhere because she wanted quiet? Yeah, a frickin' fresh start.
The GPS chimed that we had arrived and I finally looked up. Our new house was two stories, painted white with surprisingly little peeling. A porch swing dangled lazily and behind it, the forest stretched endlessly, thick and dark. It was the kind of woods that made you notice every shadow and every movement.
Mom jumped out, stretching, arms wide like she was greeting the entire forest. “Home sweet home!”
I lingered in the car a second longer, gripping my hoodie tighter. The air smelled sharp: pine, damp earth, and a hint of something metallic. I shook my head. I was probably imagining it.
“Grab your stuff from the trunk, sweetheart,” Mom called.
Groaning and rolling my eyes at the same time, I hauled two suitcases, a backpack, and a box labeled Aria’s Room which was my last shred of control over my life. Inside, the house smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and dust. The floorboards groaned under my weight, which I decided was judgmental since I didn't weigh that much, and I rolled my eyes for the second time. I was glad my eyes hadn't popped out of their sockets, yet.
“Your room’s upstairs, last one on the right,” Mom said. “You’ll love it and it has a great view of the forest.”
“Trees! Oh, how thrilling!” I muttered, hoping my sarcasm was subtle. She smiled, choosing to ignore me which was typical.
Upstairs, my room was smaller than my old one, slanted ceiling, pale blue walls and a big window facing the woods. I dumped my backpack and just stared out at the forest. Wind moved through the branches and I tried to convince myself it was peaceful but my chest tightened anyway. I had never lived anywhere close to a forest.
Unpacking was painfully slow so I set my music on low to drown out the silence. Nothing like a good SZA’s song to calm the atmosphere. Oddly, there was barely little noise for it was too quiet for my liking. Apparently, my mom loves this kind of quiet. My old street had noise, here, even the smallest creak felt amplified. Gosh! Did my mom bring us to a ghost town? I bit my lip and told myself that I was just overreacting.
By the time I went back downstairs, Mom had already rearranged the living room. “Maybe we can walk around later,” she said. “And meet the neighbours.”
“Sure. Can’t wait to meet the two other humans in a five-mile radius,” I replied and she gave me that look again.
Fine, I decided to tone down the sarcasm a bit. Dinner was takeout pizza on the floor because the table needed replacement. Mom chattered about basically, nothing. I nodded, pretending to care while my eyes kept drifting to the window. After dishes, I went back to my room. Cool air brushed my face smelling of wet pine and a branch tapped the glass lightly and my chest jumped. I laughed at myself feeling jumpy. I leaned out a little and closed my eyes, listening to the calm. The forest was mostly quiet but the wind rattled leaves and every so often and a bird called or a squirrel scuttled along a branch. I loved the city with its bustling streets. Here felt like a wildlife park, of all the places, my mom chose this.
I unpacked a few more things, focusing on trivialities: closet space, bookshelf arrangement and which posters to put up. Can’t let my SZA’s poster gather dust and I know, I'm such a huge fan. My eyes kept flicking to the window and I knew I was going to hate it here and probably wouldn't last a week. Finally, I lay on my bed, headphones in and scrolled through my playlist settling on Sia this time. My eyes kept darting toward the window toward the woods. There was something weird about this place. I tried to think about mundane things — school tomorrow, food, whether I remembered to pack my lucky pen — but every minor noise made me tense.
A small snap outside made me sit up. A branch, probably. My imagination ran wild, conjuring shadows and shapes that didn’t exist. I rolled my eyes at myself reminding myself that I was being childish. I lay back down again, telling myself it was all normal and I was probably behaving like a five year old. I just had to survive the first month and tried not to think of life back home and continued humming to Sia's Unstoppable.
Then I heard a sound. I froze and plugged out my headphones and rose to the window. My gaze drifted across the narrow strip of yard separating our house from the one next door. The neighboring porch light was on, soft yellow spilling over the railing. A guy, tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair falling into his eyes stood at the edge of his porch, arms crossed and facing my window. He didn’t move. His stare was steady, intense, like he’d been waiting for me to look out. Gray eyes—stormy even from this distance—locked on mine for one long second that stretched into forever.
My breath hitched and he just held the gaze, something unreadable flickering in his expression—curiosity? Recognition? Warning?
Then he turned and disappeared back inside his house the porch light clicking off behind him. I hissed, staying frozen at the window, with pulse hammering in my ears. Who the hell was that? And why did it feel like he’d already decided I wasn’t leaving anytime soon?