I'm Clara Moreau, Professional Ballerina, or at least, I used to be. That title used to be my anthem, my triumph. Now? After one wrong step in Berlin, during Swan Lake, those words just feel like a cruel echo. My world blurred right in front of the audience. Broken doll is probably more accurate now for me.

Now I'm stuck in Havenwood. Population: way too small for my big-city tastes and even smaller for my ballerina dreams. They call it peaceful, a retreat. Yeah, right. Peace feels like a cruel joke when my ankle throbs with every damn snowflake.

Then there's Leo Bellini. He owns the local bookstore, keeps to himself. Heard he turned into a total recluse after his own heart got stomped on - like he's living in his own heartbreak romance novel.

This whole detour, this tiny loft above Leo's bookstore... none of it was planned, none of it wanted. Yet, surrounded by the quiet and the snow and stories in every corner, it looks the start of something new.

Leo's reserved, sure. But those eyes of his... they see something beyond the broken dancer. Maybe Havenwood isn't just a detour. But the question keeps whispering on the wind: Can a broken swan ever really fly again? Especially in a place like this?