"I’m all alone here, you can take me away anytime." Nora Scott was not wearing a coat, just a sweater and pants, with slippers on her feet. The cold wind blew directly at her, sneaking in through her collar, cuffs, and pant legs. A chill crawled over her skin, brushing against the raised hairs. The wind left no trace, seemingly invisible, yet the memory it left on her senses never lied. Simple words, seemingly casual, yet sincere, containing a weight in their lightness. As the wind blew, they scattered into the air, but these fleeting words, intangible and invisible, were like a brand, leaving a mark on her feelings and memory. Her fingers curled up, nails poking into her palm, causing a dull pain, but it couldn’t wipe away the heat surging in her chest. "If you really were alone, I’d leave it at that." Her figure was bathed in light, radiantly unrestrained, as Nora exhaled a puff of white mist, her slender eyes curving slightly like a crescent moon. Suddenly, the person behind her softened his tone, but there was no disappointment, only indulgence: "Then, before you’re ready to take it, you can ask for something else." Nora turned her head in confusion, "What?" The light shone through the open door, casting a rectangular shadow on the courtyard steps, capturing Nora’s silhouette. Pedro Langley stood in the shadows, the deep night seemed ready to engulf him, yet he stood tall, a beacon guiding the way. He said, "I’ll give it to you in a few days." "Oh." Nora, slightly stunned, turned back and added quietly, "Take care." Pedro exhaled in relief, a slight smile on his brows and eyes, as if it could melt ice and snow. The curtains were left open, and the day was just breaking. Outside, the wind suddenly picked up, biting cold. Leaves were blown around, rustling loudly. The sky was overcast, getting darker and darker. Inside, it was a different world—warm and cozy. The person lying in bed was so relaxed they didn’t want to move. The creature moving restlessly on the pillow disturbed Nora’s early morning dreams. With a slight frown, Nora half-opened her left eye. Through the narrow gap, a fuzzy white ball was vaguely visible. Her mind cleared a bit, and Nora fully opened her eyes, seeing Rose rolling around on the pillow, licking her paws. Check latest chapters at 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡~𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚~𝙣𝙚𝙩 A glance at the bedroom door revealed it was ajar, black and dim. Realizing Nora was awake, Rose instantly moved closer, leaped up, and landed directly on Nora’s shoulder. As it jumped, a hint of black flashed in Nora’s eyes. Groggy, Nora sat up, scooping up Rose as it rolled off her shoulder. Grabbing Rose by the scruff, its limbs flailed in the air, revealing a black string wrapped around its back leg. Startled, Nora glanced at the desk, and sure enough, she saw the overturned box, its contents scattered across the desk and floor. "I’m only letting this slide because of Chapman," Nora muttered through gritted teeth, giving Rose a warning before removing the black string snared on its leg. As soon as she let go, Rose jumped onto the bed, darted off in a flash, and disappeared from sight. Outside, the wind howled like a beast’s roar or a baby’s cry. It penetrated through the wall, pounding in Nora’s ears, making her restless. Yet, glancing at the black string, she inexplicably calmed down. This was given to her by Pedro Langley five years ago. Back when they traveled to the northwest, reaching a tourist spot, there were stalls selling woven trinkets. Nora had always been attractive, drawing attention wherever she went. The throngs of tourists couldn’t overshadow her. While waiting for Pedro at a stall, the young vendor offered her a string bracelet. She didn’t refuse and wore it. When Pedro saw, he was filled with jealousy and immediately had her throw the long string away. After returning, Pedro spent three days weaving this long string. It was rough and ugly. You could see he’d tried his best, but just from its appearance, no one would accept it if given away. This string accompanied her to many places. First worn on her wrist, it broke during an accident, so she tied it to her backpack until two years ago when she finally stored it in a box with other odds and ends. Now, the broken string was tied with an unsightly knot, its woven pattern long unrecognizable, the edges frayed from wear. Extending her left hand, her wrist exposed, Nora placed the broken string on it. Memories of Pedro putting it on her, as she teased, flashed by, causing a sudden, fleeting smile. She put the broken string away.