The landlord threw her last belonging onto the muddy street. “That’s everything,” Mr. Hutchkins sneered, [music] wiping his hands on his vest like he’d touched something filthy.

“Useless ]woman! Couldn’t even keep your husband alive long enough to pay the rent he owed.”

Annatood in the rain, clutching the one thing she’d refused to let him touch, a small, [music] worn baby blanket.

“Blue, the color she’d chosen before everything ended. Please,” she whispered. Just one more week.

I’m waiting for for what? Hutchkins laughed. A miracle. Your husband left you nothing because you were nothing.

Still, the landlord threw her last belonging onto the muddy street. That’s everything. Mr. Hutchkins sneered, [music] wiping his hands on his vest like he’d touched something filthy.

Useless woman. Couldn’t even keep your husband alive [music] long enough to pay the rent he owed.

Anna stood in the rain, clutching the one thing she’d refused to let him touch.

A small, worn baby blanket. [music] Blue, the color she’d chosen before everything ended. “Please,” she whispered.

“Just one more week. I’m waiting for what?” Hutchkins [music] laughed. “A miracle? Your husband left you nothing because you were nothing.

Still are.” The street was full of people shopping, talking, living. Not one person looked at her.

Anna sank onto her trunk. The blanket pressed against her chest. The rain soaked through her dress, but she didn’t move.

Where would she go? Boots splashed through puddles toward her. Anna Fletcher. She looked up.

A man in a sheriff’s badge stood over her, his face hard. That’s me. Town ordinance.

He handed her a folded paper. Vagrancy law. You’ve got 48 hours to secure lodging or employment.

After that, you’ll be arrested and removed from the county. Anna’s hands shook as she took the paper.

Arrested for being poor. Arrested for having no means of support. His voice wasn’t cruel, just tired.

Find work. Find family. Find something. 48 hours. He walked away. Anna sat in the rain holding a piece of paper that said she had 2 days before she became a criminal.

The blanket in her lap was the only soft thing left in her world. How much do you need?

Anna’s head snapped up. A man stood in front of her. Tall, broad-shouldered, expensive coat, but his eyes were empty.

Hollow. What? To stay? He said flatly. How much money do you need to not be arrested?

Anna stared at him. I I don’t know. Rent for a month, maybe $50. I’ll give you a,000.

The world tilted. What? The man crouched down so they were eye level. Up close, she could see the exhaustion carved into his face.

The way his jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful. My name is Daniel Brooks.

I own the largest ranch in this county, and I need a wife. Anna’s breath caught.

A wife for one year. His voice was cold, business-like. My father’s will states I must be married to inherit the ranch.

I have 30 days left. After one year, the marriage dissolves. You get $1,000. I keep my land.

Anna couldn’t breathe. Why me? Because you need money. And I need a legal wife.

No emotions. No expectations. Separate rooms. You manage the house. I manage the ranch. In 12 months, we part ways and never see each other again.

He pulled an envelope from his coat. Inside was a contract. You’d have a roof, food, safety, and when it ends, enough money to start over anywhere you want.

Anna looked down at the blanket in her hands, at the eviction notice, at the sheriff’s warning crumpled beside her.

48 hours. Why not marry someone you actually know? Daniel’s face went even colder because I don’t want to know anyone and I don’t want anyone to know me.

This is business, nothing more. Anna read the contract with shaking hands. It was exactly as he’d said, “One year, separate accommodations, payment upon completion.”

She looked up at him. And if I say no, then I’ll ask someone else.

He stood. You have 5 minutes to decide. Anna looked at the rain soaked street at Mr.

Hutchkins watching from his doorway with a smirk at the people walking past her like she was already invisible.

She thought about 48 hours, about arrest, about having absolutely nothing and no one. I’ll do it, she whispered.

Daniel’s expression didn’t change. Good. We marry tomorrow. Courthouse 9:00. He walked away without another word.

Anna sat alone in the rain, holding a contract that promised her salvation and absolutely nothing else.

The courthouse wedding took 6 minutes. No flowers, no guests, just a judge. Two witnesses pulled from the hallway and Daniel’s cold, emotionless face as he said, “I do.”

Anna’s voice shook. “I do. You’re married. Sign here.” They signed. Daniel handed her into a wagon without looking at her.

The ride to the ranch was silent. Anna watched the landscape change. Town to farmland to endless rolling hills.

The ranch appeared over a ridge and her breath caught. It was beautiful, huge, prosperous, and completely utterly lifeless.

Daniel helped her down without meeting her eyes. A stern-faced woman in an apron appeared on the porch.

Mrs. Peters, this is my wife. Show her to the guest room. Guest room? Not our room.

Mrs. Peters nodded. This way, ma’am. Anna followed her inside. The house was immaculate, clean, expensive, and silent as a grave.

Mrs. Peters led her upstairs, past several closed doors to a small but comfortable room at the end of the hall.

Dinner is at 6:00, breakfast at 7:00. Mr. Brooks takes his meals in the dining room.

He expects punctuality. Thank you. Mrs. Peter’s turn to leave, then paused. There’s one rule in this house, ma’am.

What’s that? The housekeeper pointed down the hall. At the very end was a door.

Darkwood. A lock. That room stays locked. Don’t ask about it. Don’t try to open it.

And don’t ask Mr. Brooks why. Anna stared at the door. What’s in there? Mrs.

Peter’s face softened with something like pity. Grief. Anna stood alone in her new room in her new house, married to a man who’d bought her like a piece of furniture.

Outside her window, the sun was setting over the most beautiful land she’d ever seen.

Inside, everything was cold. She sat on the bed and pressed the baby blanket to her chest.

One year, she told herself, “Just survive one year.” The first week passed in silence, so thick it felt like drowning.

Anna woke each morning to an empty house. Daniel was already gone. Out to the fields, the barn, anywhere that wasn’t near her.

She’d find coffee made, still warm, but he never waited to drink it with her.

Breakfast alone, lunch alone, dinner the only meal they shared, and even then he barely looked at her.

How was your day? Fine. Is there anything you need? No, three words. For if she was lucky, then he’d finish eating and disappear into his study downstairs.

She wouldn’t see him again until the next evening. Anna had never felt more invisible.

Still, she couldn’t stop trying. The house was beautiful, but cold, like a museum, so she opened windows, baked bread, planted herbs by the back door, and every morning she picked one wild flower from the field and placed it in a glass on the dining table.

Daniel never mentioned it, but he never threw them away either. By the second week, dead flowers crowded around the fresh one she added each morning.

Things shifted in quiet ways. Daniel began coming to breakfast. He’d nod when she poured his coffee.

He’d mention if a fence needed mending, like she was someone who might care. She did.

She brought him water while he worked. He took it without looking at her, but he drank it every time.

One evening, 3 weeks in, Anna was washing dishes when she felt him behind her.

She turned. Daniel stood in the doorway holding vegetables from her garden. “You planted these?”

He said this. “I hope that’s all right.” “It’s more than all right.” He set the basket down.

“I haven’t seen that garden used in 2 years.” Their hands reached for a tomato at the same time.

Fingers brushed. Anna froze. So did Daniel. Three heartbeats, his hand warm, her pulse racing.

Then Daniel pulled back like burned. I should, he didn’t finish. Just left. Anna stared at her hand, feeling the ghost of his touch.

I’m falling in love with him, she realized. And it was the worst thing that could happen.

The woman arrived on a Thursday afternoon. Anna was in the garden when she heard the carriage.

She stood and watched an elegant woman step down. Beautiful, perfectly dressed, a woman for drawing rooms, not dirt paths.

The woman’s eyes found Anna and went cold. “You must be the wife,” she said with false sweetness.

“I’m Anna, Anna Brooks.” “Of course you are.” She circled closer, studying her like an insect.

“I’m Victoria Henshaw. Daniel and I grew up together. Our families have been close for generations.”

Anna smiled politely. It’s nice to meet you. Is it? Victoria’s smile sharpened. I suppose you think you’re very clever, trapping a man like Daniel with a contract marriage.

Anna’s stomach dropped. I don’t know what you Oh, please. Victoria laughed. Everyone knows the desperate widow.

The lonely rancher who needed a wife on paper. Quite the arrangement. It’s not like that, isn’t it?

Victoria stepped closer, voice vicious. You’re a transaction, a formality. When the year ends, you’ll leave with your money, and Daniel will marry someone appropriate.

Anna’s hands clenched. Why are you here? To remind you of your place. Victoria’s eyes glittered.

You may sleep under his roof and wear his name, but you’ll never be his wife.

Not really. He doesn’t love you. He can’t even stand to look at you. The words hit like slaps.

Boots sounded on the porch. Victoria. Daniel’s voice carried across the yard. Victoria’s whole demeanor changed.

She turned radiant. Daniel, I was just getting acquainted with your lovely wife. Daniel looked at Anna, then back at Victoria.

What brings you out here? I wanted to see how you were settling into married life.

She touched his arm and to invite you both to dinner at Henshaw House next week.

That’s kind, but Oh, you must come. Remember our wonderful evenings, music and conversation until midnight.

She laughed lightly. Anna, Daniel has the most marvelous singing voice. Anna blinked. He sings beautifully, though I suppose you wouldn’t know that yet.

Victoria’s eyes gleamed. You’ve only been married a few weeks. So much you don’t know.

Daniel shifted. Victoria, remember the summer we were 16? You sang at the harvest dance and every girl swooned.

Her hand lingered on his arm. I still think about that night. And Daniel, distant, guarded.

Daniel actually smiled. A real smile. That was a long time ago. Not so long, she said softly.

Some things don’t change. Anna watched them. How easily Victoria made him laugh. How comfortable he was with her.

How he relaxed in ways he never did with Anna. “He can open up,” she realized.

“Just not to me.” Victoria finally left with promises to send an invitation. Daniel walked her to her carriage, still smiling.

When he returned, the walls were back up. “I have work to finish,” he said, not meeting Anna’s eyes.

He left her standing in the garden, dirt on her dress, flowers drooping in her hands.

That night at dinner, Anna placed a fresh wild flower on the table. Daniel didn’t look at it or her.

Later, walking past the dining room, she saw him sitting alone in the dark, staring at the flowers, all 13 dead ones, and the fresh one she’d added that morning.

He didn’t know she was watching when he reached out and touched one of the dried petals with a gentleness that made her chest ache.

Anna went to her room and lay awake, listening to his footsteps. Hours later. He paused outside her door.

She held her breath, but he didn’t knock. He stood there for a long moment, then walked away.

“He’s carrying something he won’t share,” Anna thought. “And I don’t know if he ever will.”

Outside, the wind whispered through the fields. Inside, two people lived like strangers, terrified of what might happen if they stopped pretending.

6 months had passed when the lawyer arrived. Anna was needing bread when she heard the carriage.

Through the window, she saw a severe-l looking man in a black suit step down carrying a leather briefcase.

Mrs. Peters appeared in the doorway. The lawyer’s here. Mr. Brooks wants you in the study.

Anna’s stomach nodded. She wiped flower from her hands and followed. Daniel stood as she entered, his face unreadable.

The lawyer sat behind the desk. Papers spread before him. Mrs. Brooks. The lawyer gestured to the chair beside Daniel.

Please sit. Anna sat. Daniel remained standing, hands clasped behind his back. I’m here on behalf of the estate, the lawyer began.

To verify the legitimacy of your marriage per Harrison Brooks’s will. He opened a notebook.

I have several questions. Of course, Daniel said tightly. The lawyer’s eyes moved between them.

Do you share a bedroom? Silence. No, Anna said quietly. The lawyer made a note.

Do you take meals together? Yes, Daniel said. Breakfast and dinner. And do you engage in marital relations?

Anna’s face burned. She stared at her lap. That’s private, Daniel said, voice hard. Mr.

Brooks, the terms of the will are explicit. Your marriage must be genuine legally, socially, and intimately.

If this is merely a business arrangement, the inheritance is forfeit. Daniel’s hands clenched. We’re married legally.

Legally, but a marriage on paper only won’t satisfy the will. The lawyer closed his notebook.

I’ll return in 1 month. Then I’ll need to confirm that you are living as husband and wife in every sense.

If not, you lose everything. He stood, gathered his papers, and left. The silence he left behind was suffocating.

Daniel walked to the window. Back to her. You’ll need to move into my room.

Anna’s heart stopped. What? For appearances, staff talks. The lawyer will ask questions. His voice was flat.

We need to make it look real for 1 month. Yes. Anna stood slowly. And then then the same settings and after year ends, you get your money.

We both go back to our lives. The words felt like a door slamming shut.

That evening, Anna moved her things. Daniel’s room was larger than hers, dominated by a massive bed that felt impossibly small.

I’ll sleep on top of the covers, Daniel said, not looking at her. You’ll sleep under them.

We just need to make it look like we share the bed. That first night, Anna lay rigid under the quilts, feeling his weight beside her.

He stayed perfectly still, barely breathing. Neither of them slept. Slowly, night by night, something changed.

On the third night, Anna woke from a nightmare. Her husband’s voice, his fists, and gasped.

Daniels hand found hers in the dark. “You’re safe,” he whispered. “You’re safe here.” He didn’t let go until her breathing steadied.

On the seventh night, Daniel had the nightmare. He thrashed, muttering words Anna couldn’t understand.

She touched his shoulder gently. “Daniel, wake up.” His eyes flew open, wild and lost.

Then his face crumpled. “I’m sorry,” he choked. “It’s all right. It’s not.” He sat up, running, shaking hands through his hair.

“Nothing’s all right.” Anna sat beside him. “Tell me. I can’t. Daniel, please don’t ask me to.”

His voice broke, so she didn’t ask. She just sat with him in the darkness until the shaking stopped.

By the third week, they’d stopped pretending the covers between them mattered. They’d wake tangled together, his arm around her waist, her head on his chest.

Neither mentioned it in the morning, but Anna felt herself falling deeper, and it was killing her.

When the year ends, this ends, she reminded herself, “He doesn’t really love me. This is all pretend.”

It was the 25th night when Anna couldn’t sleep. Daniel had gone downstairs hours ago.

Anna lay staring at the ceiling thinking about 1 month. One month until the lawyer returned.

One month until this forced closeness ended. She got up, wrapped a shawl, and wandered the dark hallway.

The locked study door was open just slightly. A sliver of lamplight spilling through. Her heart pounded.

She knew she shouldn’t, but her feet carried her forward. She pushed the door open.

The room was small, suffocating. Every wall covered with papers and letters, hundreds of them.

All addressed to Sarah. Anna stepped inside, hands shaking. She began to read. Sarah, I should have seen the signs.

I should have known. Have I just listened? They said it wasn’t my fault. But how can that be true when you’re dead and I’m alive?

I miss you, God. I miss you so much. It feels like dying. The dates went back 2 years.

Letter after letter. Guilt, grief, desperate apologies. What are you doing in here? Anna spun.

Daniel stood in the doorway, face white, devastated. I’m sorry, Anna whispered. The door was open.

I didn’t mean get out. His voice hollow. Daniel, get out. Anna fled but stopped in the hallway, pressed against the wall, listening inside the study, she heard it.

Daniel Brooks breaking a sound like an animal caught in a trap. Agonized, not crying.

It was worse. A man who’d held himself together for 2 years finally shattering. Anna slid down the wall, tears streaming.

She understood. Sarah wasn’t his sister. She was his wife. Whatever happened, Daniel blamed himself.

The inheritance clause wasn’t about land. It was about a father who’d watched his son die inside and tried to force him back to life.

And Anna, desperate, broken Anna, was supposed to be the cure. But how could she heal someone when she was falling apart herself?

Inside the study, Daniel’s sobs quieted. Anna stood on shaking legs and walked back to their room.

She climbed into the bed that smelled like him and waited. An hour later, Daniel came back.

He didn’t speak, just lay down beside her, stiff and distant. But in the darkness, his hand found hers.

And this time, he held on like he was drowning. The gossip started 3 days after Anna discovered the study.

She heard it first at the general store when she went for supplies. Two women stopped talking the moment she walked in, their eyes following her with sharp curiosity.

That’s her,” one whispered, not quietly enough. The contract wife. Anna kept her head down and left without buying anything.

By the end of the week, the whispers were everywhere. At church, in the street, even Mrs.

Peters began looking at her differently, pitying, almost sad. They’re saying the marriage isn’t real.

The housekeeper finally told her that you have separate rooms, that it’s all for show.

Anna’s stomach dropped. We share a room now for a month. I know me, but the damage is done.

People talk. Anna wanted to tell Daniel, but he’d been distant since the night in the study.

He still slept beside her, still reached for her hand in the dark. But during the day, he barely met her eyes.

Like he was ashamed she’d seen him break. The morning the sheriff arrived, Anna was in the garden.

She heard the horses first, three of them. When she looked up, Sheriff Morrison was dismounting, his face grim.

Behind him were two deputies. And Victoria Henshaw, sitting in a carriage, watching with cold satisfaction.

Anna’s heart began to pound. Mrs. Brooks, the sheriff called. I need you to come here, please.

Anna wiped her hands on her apron and walked toward them, her legs shaking. What’s going on?

The sheriff pulled a folded document from his coat. I have a court order. You’re under investigation for marriage fraud.

The world tilted. What? The town council has received evidence that your marriage to Daniel Brooks is a sham.

A legal arrangement designed to circumvent the terms of his father’s will. That’s not we’re married.

Legally married legally. But the council has testimony that you maintain separate rooms, that you were hired for a sum of money, that this marriage is fraudulent.

His voice wasn’t unkind, but it was final. You have 24 hours to leave the county, Mrs.

Brooks. If you don’t, you’ll be arrested. Anna couldn’t breathe. But the estate lawyer already.

The lawyer works for the Brooks estate. Ma’am, the town has filed criminal charges for misrepresentation.

This is beyond the will now. Who filed the charges? Anna’s voice shook. The sheriff glanced toward Victoria’s carriage.

He didn’t have to answer. Boots pounded across the yard. Daniel appeared from the barn, his face thunderous.

What the hell is going on? Mr. Brooks. The sheriff straightened. I’m serving your wife with She’s not going anywhere.

Daniel stepped between Anna and the sheriff. This is my wife. You have no right.

The law says otherwise. The sheriff held out the court order. The town council has evidence this marriage is false.

If she doesn’t leave voluntarily, I’m authorized to arrest her. On what grounds? Daniel’s voice was dangerous.

Fraud, conspiracy to defraud an estate. The judge signed the order this morning. Daniel snatched the paper, his hands shaking as he read.

Anna watched his face go from fury to devastation. This is Victoria’s doing, he said quietly.

She’s lying. The council has sworn statements from multiple witnesses, Mr. Brooks, including household staff.

Daniel’s eyes snapped to Mrs. Peters, who stood frozen on the porch. She looked away, ashamed.

You told them. His voice broke. You told them about the separate rooms. I was questioned under oath, sir.

I couldn’t lie. Anna touched Daniel’s arm. It’s all right. It’s not all right. He spun toward the sheriff.

I’ll fight this. I’ll take it to the territorial court. And while you fight, she’ll be in jail.

The sheriff’s voice was flat. Is that what you want? Because that’s what will happen if she’s still here tomorrow.

Daniel looked at Anna, his face shattered. I won’t let them. You have to. Anna’s voice was steady even though she was breaking inside.

If I stay, they’ll arrest me. You’ll lose the ranch fighting legal battles. Everything your father wanted.

I don’t care about the ranch. Yes, you do. She took his hand. And I care about you.

Let me go, Daniel. Please. No. The word was raw. If you fight this, we both lose everything.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. But if I leave now, at least you keep the ranch.

At least something good comes from this. Nothing good comes from losing you. The words hung in the air between them.

The first time he’d admitted out loud what they both felt. The sheriff cleared his throat.

I’m sorry, Mr. Brooks. But the order stands. 24 hours. Anna looked at Daniel’s face at the man she’d fallen in love with.

The man who kept dead flowers because she’d picked them. The man who held her hand in the dark like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

“I’ll pack,” she whispered. Daniel grabbed her wrist. Anna, I have to. She pulled away and walked toward the house.

Behind her, she heard Daniel’s voice with desperation. This isn’t over. Do you hear me?

This isn’t over. 24 hours later, Anna stood on the porch with one small back.

Everything she owned in the world. Daniel hadn’t slept. She’d heard him pacing all night, heard him in the study, heard the sound of things breaking.

Now he stood before her, his eyes red, his jaw clenched so tight she thought it might crack.

The sheriff’s wagon waited in the yard. “Don’t do this,” Daniel said one last time.

“I don’t have a choice. There’s always a choice.” Anna touched his face, memorizing every line.

“Take care of yourself.” She started down the steps. Daniels voice stopped her. Quite broken.

Certain. I will fix this no matter the cost. Anna turned back. He was standing in the doorway of the house that had become her home, looking at her like she was everything.

I promise you, he said, “I will fix this.” Then the sheriff helped her into the wagon, and she watched the ranch disappear behind her.

Inside the house, Daniel stood alone, staring at the dining table at 19 dead flowers, dried and brittle, and one fresh one she’d placed there that morning, knowing she’d never place another.

He picked up the glass and carried it to his room, set it on the table beside his bed, and began to plan.

Anna sat in the boarding house room that smelled of mildew and despair, staring at the wall.

3 days. She’d been gone 3 days and it felt like dying. The land lady had taken her last $5 for a week’s rent.

After that, Anna had no plan, no hope, just the ache of missing him so deeply, it made her physically ill.

She heard boots on the stairs, heavy, urgent, then pounding on her door. Anna. Her heart stopped.

Daniel’s voice. She threw open the door. He stood there, wildeyed, unshaven like he hadn’t slept.

His shirt untucked, hair a mess. You can’t be here, she whispered. If they see you with me, I don’t care.

He grabbed her hands. It’s done. The charges are dropped. Anna’s breath caught. What? The town council.

I went to them this morning. It’s over. How? What did you then understanding crashed over her?

Oh God, the ranch. You gave them the ranch. Daniel’s silence was answer enough. No.

Anna pulled her hands away. No, Daniel. That ranch is everything. Your father’s legacy. Your life.

My life was a coffin, he said raw. Dead for 2 years. Then you came.

I started breathing. Living again. Tears streamed down her face. You can’t give up everything for me.

I already did. He stepped closer. Yesterday I signed the papers. The ranch goes to the town.

All charges dropped. You’re free. You’re lying. You love that ranch. You can’t. I love you.

He exploded. More than land, more than legacy, more than my life. You were never a contract.

You were the one I chose. Anna couldn’t breathe. When my father wrote that will, Daniel continued, voice shaking.

He tried to save me from drowning in grief. He forced me to try hiring a wife, keeping distance, staying safe.

Daniel, but then you started putting flowers on the table, baking bread that smelled like home, looking at me like I was worth something.

His thumbs brushed her tears, and I fell in love, terrified, fighting it. But completely, irreversibly in love.

The year isn’t even up, Anna whispered. I don’t want a year. I don’t want a contract.

He pressed his forehead to hers. I want forever to wake next to you every morning.

Fight with you, makeup, grow old, annoying you. You gave up everything. I gave up nothing, he said fiercely.

Because you’re everything. The ranch was just land. You’re my life. She kissed him desperate and certain.

When they broke apart, Daniel smiled a real full smile. She’d never seen. Marry me, he said.

For real? Not for money, inheritance, or any reason except that I love you and want to spend my life proving it.

Yes. She laughed through tears. Yes, you impossible man. Yes. They walked out together, hand in hand.

The street was full. Saturday market day. Standing in the center, as if waiting, was Victoria Henshaw.

Her face went white. Daniel led Anna straight toward her, the sheriff nearby, toward all the people who’d whispered and judged.

“Sheriff Morrison,” Daniel called. “I want to report a crime.” The sheriff turned. “Mr. Brooks.”

Miss Henshaw filed false charges against my wife from perjury. I have proof. Victoria’s face went crimson.

You can’t prove. I can. Daniel pulled papers from his coat. Sworn statements. Bank records.

A letter from the estate lawyer confirming our marriage was legitimate. She lied to destroy us.

The crowd pressed closer. “You were supposed to marry me.” “Your father promised.” Victoria hissed.

“My father promised nothing,” Daniel said. “Even if he had, I’d have chosen her.” “Every time.”

He pulled Anna close. “Every single time.” The sheriff looked at Victoria. “You need to come with me.

This is ridiculous. Victoria shouted. She’s my wife, Daniel said clearly. The woman I love.

Anyone who speaks against her answers to me. Silence fell. Then clapping from the back.

Mrs. Henderson, the blacksmith. More voices joining. Enough. Anna buried her face in Daniel’s chest.

He held her while the crowd dispersed. The sheriff led Victoria away. Their world slowly writing itself.

What now? Anna whispered. No ranch, nothing. Daniel tilted her face up. We have each other.

We’ll figure out the rest. One year later, Anna stood on the porch of their small house bought with money from selling Daniel’s horses, watching him work their modest land.

Her hand rested on her swollen belly. 7 months along, the house was tiny but full of laughter, arguments, burnt dinners, and love.

On the kitchen table sat a glass with 23 dried wild flowers. Daniel kept everyone.

That evening, his aranged brother came to reconcile. They talked for hours, healing old wounds.

As the sun set, Daniel knelt beside Anna in the garden, covering her dirt stained hands with his.

“Do you ever regret it?” She asked. “Never,” he said. “The ranch was my past.

You’re my future. I love you,” she whispered. I know. He kissed her forehead. You show me everyday.

You loved me back to life. She leaned against him, feeling their baby kick. Sarah would have liked you, he said softly.

Then I’m grateful to her, Anna said. They sat together as darkness fell. Two broken people now found.

The flowers on the table were wilting. Tomorrow Anna would add another, and Daniel would keep it.

Every day they choose each other