Dara sniffed, flattening her palm against the top of her summer hat. The wind hasn't let up since earlier, threatening to rip it from her head. What was the matter with this weather? It was as if it couldn't decide if it wanted to rain or to squeeze every droplet of moisture off her skin.

Her luggage's wheels thundered across the loose planks of the rotting bridge. Her goal was the lone cabin in the middle of a lake. Already, she could smell the earthy scent rolling off the still water. No ripples reflected from the surface. Even as the leaves detached from their branches and fluttered towards the glassy landscape, the lake simply cradled them like poisonous babies.

A stabbing pain rose from her ankles. Ugh. She shouldn't have worn heels.

She shouldn't be here, if not for the mess the past few days had been. Her uncle told her about this hidden retreat in an obscure part of the country. Pearly Lake Cabin, he called it. Dara understood the reference. The tourist website said the lake had a species of clams whose cousins thrived in open seas. And they produce pearls, which were harvested and transformed into jewelry. Some of those were sold in the antique store at the town's entrance.

But the main reason she was out here was because her uncle told her the cabin would cure a broken heart. And she has one, so they'd see the results in three days. Her uncle promised her she'd get a nice massage blowout if she proved him wrong. Oh, the fight was on.

It wasn't even something big. No. She broke up with her boyfriend after learning he had been cheating with a chick years younger than her for as long as their relationship lasted. And he wasn't even sorry. When Dara confronted him about it, he crossed his arms and scoffed. "You won't understand it," he claimed.

Of course, Dara wouldn't. How could anyone cheat at their partner and then wonder why they were breaking up with them? Bonkers, that wanker. Her girl friends had to drag her out of the cafe before her temper flared up and she cussed the ego out of the poor man.

Not that she was glad for it. The reason for this retreat was because she didn't get to say what she should have, and it has been eating her up from the inside. It was a messy breakup, and she would give everything she had just to turn back time to that moment. Maybe she'd tell her ex how much of a dick he was or maybe she'd ask back all the things she bought him.

Nevertheless, after the fifth carton of cookies-n-cream in only an afternoon and the fourth rewatch of Pride and Prejudice in a span of a week, her uncle barged into her apartment and issued an intervention.

"It's a resthouse in the middle of nowhere." Her uncle's words floated at the back of her head as a surly memory. Looking back, she should have stopped him there. "It's far enough away from the city. Go there to relax. Unwind. You'll forget about him in no time."

Yeah, no shit. Dara had spent a mind-numbing six hours on transit, changing vehicles and type of road at least four times, lost one of her summer sandals to the sea, and was forced to drag her luggage and frilly dress across blistering heat, countryside quagmire, and thorny branches just to get to a damp cabin in the middle of a drab lake.

The rest of the dock ran out below her heels, and she yanked her shades off her face, tucking them safely in her tote bag. She removed her wide-brimmed hat and craned her neck up at the neat row of gray shingles, lumpy logs for walls, and murky windows in desperate need of washing. Were those...cobwebs on the sill? Ew.

Her uncle made her reservation in a desperate attempt to get her out of the house and her pajamas, so she didn't even have the keys. No one was in the reception of the town either, at least no one who could guide her on how to occupy an abandoned cabin. She grabbed the knob and twisted. It snapped free with ease. Oh, looked like she didn't even need to.

Which raised the question of whether this was the real deal or a serial killer's den. Could anyone get inside with this much ease? She whirled behind her, checking if someone had followed her slow trek across the docks. Nothing. She breathed a sigh of relief. But...for how long? If she got killed here, she'd haunt her uncle until he peed his pants.

Well, whatever. Her shoes clacked against the cabin's wooden floorboards as she ducked inside. Immediately, the kitchen greeted her, along with a small table meant for single occupancy. A lonely existence—that was what the owner of this cabin and the one who thought this was a good idea wanted her to be reminded of her entire stay. She must have entered a back door or something.

The bedroom. Let her just get this over with and make certain people happy. Let him think he didn't waste bucks for his beloved niece. Yep. She'd do that.

With her luggage in tow, she wandered the cabin, passing by faded pictures nailed into the wooden planks. A distinct fish smell never let up even after she left the kitchen and came into the meat of the cabin—the living room. A patterned rug sat in the middle, flanked by dusty lounge chairs. Potted plants stood in every corner of this irregular-shaped room, decorating the wide windows with their artful, green leaves. Beyond the window, the view of the lake bled towards the horizon.

The colors of autumn dotted every inch, blotting out the faint silhouette of a snow-capped mountain beyond where the town and the country's capital city lay. Okay, fine. Perhaps, her uncle had a point. Being a hermit in a place like this was the perfect way to heal.

Two doors guarded her way from the kitchen. One of these must be the bedroom. She tried the one to her left. A toilet and a deep wash basin blinked back at her. Nope. The opposite door, perhaps.

The hinges screamed when she swung the other door inside. A four-poster bed that was too short, a set of folded blankets and sheets on the mattress, and a vanity with a surface that could barely be called a mirror awaited her. Good. A place to crash, finally. Might need a little bit of dusting, but it'd do.

After an hour of unpacking, she gave up on sleep. With a begrudging pace, she took a shower instead, letting the cold water wash down all the stress of the day. Didn't help. After changing into her comfy wear to prepare her for a night of sleeping like the dead, she headed to the kitchen to make herself some acceptable dinner. The stove's starter took three tries to fully burn, and by the time she was done boiling the tap water for her instant noodles, her stomach begged for any food it could get.

Dinner came and went. The noodles tasted like liquid sad, but it was enough to get her going through the night. She stalked to the sink, aiming to rinse her spoon. When she turned the ancient-looking knob, the tap rushed out in an angry torrent, almost splashing her clothes. She lashed out and tugged the knob shut. Ugh. This place wasn't going to get anywhere near three stars. Two were already generous.

Porcelain tinkled behind her. Okay, who in the world—

She froze. She was alone just now, wasn't she? There wasn't anyone in the cabin last she checked. Or...did she check? Was the caretaker inside all along, only showing themselves now, of all times? But didn't she reserve this cabin for herself? Well, her uncle did, but that was beside the point. So, if she was alone...

Who the hell was shaking a cup against its saucer like an overstimulated kid?

A breeze flew past the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine and making the hairs on her arms stand to ends. She turned in time for a white sheet to fly towards her. Did her blankets develop sentience and were coming for her? No, no, no. She wouldn't end here.

She did the smartest thing she ever did in her short life—she threw her spoon and screamed. Loudly. Maybe she was able to make the water in the lake quiver. Just for a bit.