The Mountain Retreat

The cabin nestled in the heart of the mountains stood in perfect stillness, blanketed by fresh snow. Hannah stepped out onto the porch, mug of coffee in hand, and inhaled the crisp, pine-scented air. A weekend alone—just her, nature, and her thoughts. Or so she'd thought.

A rustling sound caught her attention. Turning, she saw a figure at the edge of the clearing, adjusting a camera on a tripod. It was a woman, bundled in a thick coat and knit hat, auburn hair spilling out from underneath.

Curiosity piqued, Hannah set down her mug and walked toward her.

“Hey there,” she called.

The woman turned, a smile lighting her face. “Oh, hi! I hope I’m not disturbing you. The view from here is incredible.”

“It is,” Hannah agreed, looking past the stranger to the mountains bathed in morning sunlight. “I’m Hannah.”

“Ivy.” They shook hands, gloved fingers brushing. “I come here every winter for landscape photography.”

“I’m here to escape,” Hannah said with a chuckle.

“Escaping what?”

“Everything.”

Ivy’s smile softened. “Same.”

They stood in companionable silence, the snow crunching beneath their boots. Ivy adjusted her camera, then gestured for Hannah to join her.

“Want to see?”

Hannah stepped closer, their shoulders brushing. The camera screen revealed the mountain range, majestic and endless. But Hannah was more aware of Ivy’s warmth beside her.

“Beautiful,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Ivy said, though she wasn’t looking at the mountains.

The connection was unspoken yet undeniable.

They followed the winding path through the snow, their breaths misting in the icy air. The silence of the forest was absolute—just the creak of ice-laden branches and the muffled crunch of their boots.

“So, you’re a photographer?” Hannah asked.

“Yeah. Mostly landscapes. But people intrigue me too.” Ivy glanced sideways. “Like you.”

Hannah’s heart stuttered. “Me?”

“You stood there on the porch, completely lost in the moment. People rarely do that anymore.”

“I needed it. Life in the city is… loud.” Hannah exhaled. “I manage corporate events. Noise is part of the job.”

“And here you are. Escaping.” Ivy smiled softly.

They reached a ridge overlooking a frozen lake. Ivy pulled out her camera and captured the view. Hannah stood beside her, taking in the scene: the shimmer of ice, the vastness of the mountains, the quiet hum of possibility.

“You come here every year?” Hannah asked.

“Yeah. It’s my reset button. There’s something about being surrounded by nature—it strips everything back to what really matters.”

“And what really matters?” Hannah asked.

Ivy turned, camera still in hand. “Connection.”

The word lingered between them. Hannah felt it settle in her chest, warm despite the cold.

Back at the cabin, Hannah lit the fireplace while Ivy unpacked her camera gear. The cabin's walls seemed to shrink as the fire crackled, casting flickering shadows across the wooden floor.

“Hot chocolate?” Hannah offered.

“Love some.”

They sipped the steaming drinks, sitting cross-legged on a blanket by the hearth.

“So, you really come here alone every year?” Hannah asked.

Ivy nodded. “Alone is safe. No complications.”

“Safe is... overrated.”

Ivy smiled. “Yeah. I’m starting to see that.”

The flames cast a golden glow on Ivy’s face. Hannah set down her mug and leaned closer. Ivy mirrored the movement.

The kiss was tentative at first—warm, searching. When they parted, Ivy’s eyes stayed closed a moment longer, as if savoring the memory.

“This feels... different,” Hannah whispered.

“It is.” Ivy's fingers found Hannah’s hand and squeezed.

Outside, the wind howled, but inside, everything was still.