Niyati Sharma The Perfect Escape The road to Rose Hollow curved like a question mark through the misty ridges of the Lake District. Fog clung to the narrow lanes like a hush that had forgotten how to lift. Alice kept her eyes on the pine-shaded drive as Tom navigated their little rented hatchback past an iron gate that creaked open without assistance. The gravel crunched beneath their tyres as the house came into view. “That’s… beautiful,” Alice said, finally breaking the silence. The cottage was postcard-perfect—stone walls laced with ivy, a red-tiled roof sloping under decades of moss, and two…