Stella's POV

It had been a little over eight months since I left New York.

Time in Wethersfield seemed to move to a different rhythm. It wasn't just the small-town feel, the houses with white fences, the cafés that closed at six in the evening, or the fact that everyone knew everyone else's name. It was the silence. The absence of honking horns, judgmental looks, and the constant pressure on me and my choices.

The town smelled like damp earth and freshly baked bread, strong coffee and hydrangeas in garden beds. A place where windows stayed open in the afternoons and neighbors asked how your day had been. Where time moved more slowly, as if the outside world, with all its urgency, had forgotten this small dot on the map of Connecticut.

I remember the first month like it was yesterday.

Alexander was waiting for me at the airport with a crooked sign that read, "Fugitive protected by Leah." I would've laughed if I hadn't been so nervous, eyes swollen and body aching from crying t