I never believed in fate until the storm grounded our flight. I was supposed to be in New York for my wedding in three days. Ben—Dr. Ben Bass—needed to get to Baltimore for an emergency surgery. So we took the private plane. No flight plan. Just trust.

Then Walter slumped over the controls.

The crash was a blur of noise, impact, and darkness. I woke up with Ben pressing a bandage to my leg, his voice calm but urgent. 'You’re hurt. Don’t move.'

He buried Walter in the snow. The dog whined beside us. No signals. No help.

Now, as night falls and the temperature drops, Ben kneels by the fire, checking my wound. 'We can’t stay here,' he says. 'If we want to live, we walk.'

I look at him—this stranger who saved my life. 'And if we don’t make it?'

He meets my eyes. 'Then we don’t. But I’m not letting you die alone.'

The fire flickers. The wind howls. Tomorrow, we begin the impossible.