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Stockholm - View from Stadshuset across Riddarfjärden towards Gamla Stan
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The courtyard of Stadshuset is Erynn’s refuge in Stockholm. Here, he can breathe and let go after a long, demanding day. It’s within walking distance of his apartment on Norr Mälarstrand. He especially enjoys being there towards dusk, when the late sun makes Gamla Stan and the waters of Riddarfjärden glow.
An Excerpt from The Quiet in Us, Chapter 30 – Emelle’s POV
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By the time we reach Stadshuset, the light has turned honey-soft. The red-brick tower rises into the sky, its golden crown catching the fading sun. I’ve seen photos, of course. But standing here, feeling its weight and history, is something else entirely.
We step through an archway and the world changes. It doesn’t feel purely Scandinavian anymore. Venetian, rather. Almost oriental. Arches, colonnades, patterned stone. Shadows gathering between columns. Above us, the sky is turning gold with a violet edge.
And beyond the final row of pillars, Riddarfjärden lies like a sheet of liquid metal, catching the last light of the day. The contrast is heart-stopping: standing in the gloom while looking straight into brightness.
I stop under one of the arches, breath caught somewhere high in my chest.
“My favourite place in Stockholm,” he says softly. His profile is a silhouette against the sky. Defined, smooth, unreadable all at once.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “It’s beautiful. You can sit here, in the half-dark of the arches… and still be connected to the light. It allows you to be with your ghosts without feeling completely lost.”
“Mm-hmm.”
We walk down toward the water’s edge, where two bronze figures keep their silent watch, and sit on the low stone wall, shoulders touching. The sky melts from gold to rose to lilac, streaked with purple.
“Thank you for showing me this,” I whisper.
He shifts closer. “Thank you for seeing it,” he echoes.
For a moment, we simply exist. A boat horn echoes across the water. A gull cries once. Then, he turns toward me slowly, almost reverently. His hand rises, and …
Kungsholmen - Norr Mälarstrand
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Erynn has lived on one of the upper floors of this apartment for nearly five years, keeping the space strictly private – only his closest friends and family are ever invited inside. One of his favuorite features is the view across Riddarfjärden toward Södermalm and Skinnarvikberget, where he often watches the sunset.
The apartment sits within easy walking distance of both Stockholm Central Station and Stadshuset, one of his absolute favorite places in the city. To get around, Erynn often hops on an e-scooter, zip-lining from Kungsholmen over to Östermalm for his workouts on Sibyllegatan, to catch up with his friend Frederik near Karlaplan, or to drop by Derek’s office in Vasastan.
An Excerpt from The Quiet in Us, Chapter 19 – Erynn’s POV
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I’m home. That thought settles in me the moment I close the door behind me, the sound soft, almost careful, as if the apartment itself understands what I need right now. Milan still hums somewhere in my muscles – the lights, the noise, the endless choreography of being looked at – but here, everything exhales.
Stockholm greets me without asking anything. The apartment is just as I left it. Pale walls catching the winter light, muted and calm. The herringbone parquet creaks faintly under my boots as I kick them off.
Outside the wide windows, the water of Riddarfjärden lies still, iron-grey and frozen in places, the marina quiet for the season. No cameras. No voices calling my name. Just the low, distant sound of a gull and the muffled city breathing behind snow.
I drop my bag by the wall and stand there for a moment, coat still on, letting the silence wrap around me.
This is why I love this place. Because here, I’m not Erynn Rydbergh, public property. Here, I’m just a man who can sit by the window with a mug of coffee and watch the light shift over the water without anyone caring.
I hang up my coat, run a hand through my hair, and…
Uppsala, the city where Erynn’s parents live and run Havsvågen, their fish restaurant.
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Located about 60 kilometres north of Stockholm, Uppsala is one of Sweden’s oldest cities, known for its historic university, its cathedral and the river Fyrisån running through its heart. And it’s the birthplace of Ingmar Bergman, the iconic Swedish director who is one of Erynns biggest inspirations.
And it is here, on New Year’s Eve, that something changes forever. After more than two months of intense messaging, Erynn and Emelle/Liv talk to each other for the very first time. What begins as a phone call becomes one of the defining moments of their story. By the time they hang up, nothing is quite as it was before. There is no going back to a life without each other.
An Excerpt from The Quiet in Us, Chapter 15 – Erynn’s POV
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I retreat into the guest room where the window looks out over the Fyrisån. Fireworks are already lighting up the sky, bright blues and reds blooming against the dark, painting the river in shades of purple. My breath fogs the pane as I lean closer. I feel small. Like the year is too big for me to carry. Like the next one will be even bigger, and I don’t know where to put that kind of fear.
I sink onto the bed and let my hands hang loose between my knees. Midnight happens downstairs – cheers, shouting, laughter – and all I can think is: This will be the first year of my life without Arvid. The first year he won’t call me. Won’t tease me for being sentimental. And I can’t even tell him I miss him.
The ache rises, slow and crushing. I let it.
My phone glows beside me. Five past midnight. New Year’s wishes are pouring in. From everyone but her. I blink, force myself upright, and type:
Gott nytt år, Livia. ✧✧✧ May it be a happy one for you.
I add a purple heart. Then two more.
Restless, I stand again, drawn back to the window. The fireworks reflect in the river like upside-down galaxies. I press my forehead to the cold glass.
The phone rings. And the name I least expected fills the screen. I freeze. For a second, I just stare, as if the universe made a mistake. Then I swipe to accept, hand suddenly clammy.
“Livia… ?” I say, and my voice comes out lower than I intend. There’s a tiny pause on the other end, a soft inhale.
“Ja, det är jag. Happy New Year, Erynn.”
Her voice. Gentle. Slightly breathless, as if she ran up a flight of stairs.
“Happy New Year, Liv,” I whisper.
“I was going to send a voice message,” she admits, “but it felt… strange. On New Year’s. So, I thought, okay, be brave for once.”
I close my eyes for a brief moment, letting the sound of her settle into me.
Livia. Live. Finally.
“Well,” I say eventually, and…
Park Frankendael , where Erynn & Emelle/Liv get close during their first meeting in Amsterdam
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Located in the Watergraafsmeer, Park Frankendael is just a fifteen-minute walk away from Emelle’s apartment, and feels like stepping out of the city’s steady rush and into a quiet pocket of history. It surrounds Huize Frankendael – the last remaining 18th-century country estate in Amsterdam, where manicured formal gardens give way to wilder, wooded paths & open green lawns. While used as a municipal nursery for most of the 20th century, local activism saved it from residential development, transforming it into a public park in 1998.
Tucked along one of the park’s serene, tree-lined paths sits the swan bench. Surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves, it serves as an inviting spot for contemplation, deep conversations, or romantic rendezvous.
An Excerpt from The Quiet in Us, Chapter 22 – Emelle’s POV
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At the entrance to Park Frankendael, I slow down.
“Break?” I ask.
“Definitely,” he rasps, and he looks like he means it with every tired muscle.
We lock our bikes against a huge chestnut tree and walk inside. The park hums softly: kids playing football, dogs chasing sticks, joggers passing. The air is thick with grass, earth, and the first shy promise of spring. Unlike Vondelpark, there are only a few scattered visitors here. Most of them locals. Erynn is safe here.
I lead him along a narrow path until we reach my favourite spot. The white bench waits half-hidden behind budding shrubs. Two majestic metal swans with red beaks hold the seat between them on folded wings, their necks arched into opposing half-hearts. It doesn’t look placed here. It looks as if it grew exactly where it belongs.
His steps slow, his gaze widening as he takes it in. I feel a small, private flicker of triumph. He likes it. I knew he would.
Erynn sits down beside me – too close, considering how much space the bench actually offers – his shoulder brushing mine as if by accident.
“I must admit,” I say, nudging him lightly, “you handled biking in Amsterdam like a pro. I’m impressed.”
He smirks. “Well … I just followed the expert. Knew I’d be fine.”
My stomach flutters. I really can’t with him.
The sun dips toward violet, turning the air cooler. I shiver once – stupid thin cardigan – and Erynn switches straight into hero mode.
“You can have my coat.”
I give him a look. “Sure. As if it would fit me. Have you seen my hips? They are massive.”
The moment the word ‘hips’ leaves my mouth, something flickers across his face. His eyes dip – just for a fraction of a second – as if drawn there against his will.
A tiny inhale. A tightening of his jaw. A twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he’s swallowing a thought too unfiltered to say aloud. It’s gone as fast as it came.
But I saw it. I felt it.
Heat rushes under my skin, low and sudden. Because he didn’t look in judgment. He looked like he… appreciated what he saw.
Oh Gott, Hilfe!
“Just drape it over your shoulders.”
“Okay.”
He pulls his coat off and puts it around me. When his fingers brush my hair, something sparks and runs down my spine. I hope he can’t hear my heartbeat. It’s embarrassing.
“There,” he murmurs. “That’s better.”
I look at him. And something inside me gives way. In slow motion, like a flower opening.
“Erynn…?”
He answers with a soft hum, and I can feel him still half-wrapped around me. God, this is going to ruin me. I keep telling myself: friends. FRIENDS. FRIENDS. But warmth creeps through every wall I thought I had.
I search his face. “Uhm… do… do you like it here?” With me, I add in my mind.
He swallows. Closes his eyes for a second. And something shifts in the air – subtle but undeniable. Like gravity turning its head toward me. Then he leans in and kisses the tip of my nose.
There. I’ve got my answer. And I feel it everywhere.
UNDER CONSTRUCTION
🌷TO BE CONTINUED 🌷