The sun had barely crested over the hills, but the fields were already awake.
A soft breeze tugged playfully at Luna's skirt as she moved between the rows of vines, her bare feet brushing through damp earth. Dew clung to the young grapes like morning pearls, and she leaned in close, her voice low and sweet.
"Oh, my beautiful grapes," she whispered, cupping a small cluster as if it might bruise. "Aren't you growing so beautifully?"
They didn't answer, of course. They never did.
But Luna smiled anyway—wide, unbothered, radiant. Her dark hair spilled around her shoulders like a silken curtain, and when she turned her face to the wind, she looked like a painting caught mid-breath.
To anyone passing by, she might have seemed strange. A girl who talked to fruit. A girl who laughed with the birds. A girl who hummed lullabies to the soil. But to those who knew her—really knew her—Luna was simply… Luna. A farmhand with dirt-streaked hands and a heart too tender for this hard, loud world.
She had problems—more than most her age—but she wore joy like a second skin, like a secret language only the vines could understand.
Behind her, the crack of a boot on gravel made her pause.
"Luna!" came a voice—familiar, too hopeful.
She turned to find Mike approaching, a crooked smile on his sun-kissed face and his hands shoved deep into his pockets like a boy with a secret he couldn't keep.
"I'm going to the city," he announced, chest puffed like it was a grand idea. "Thought maybe you'd want to come with me."
Luna blinked, stunned by the sudden intrusion of the outside world. Mike had been working the land beside her since they were kids, always watching her with those wide, devoted eyes. Ever since he learned how to talk, he'd been saying the same thing in different ways.
"You don't belong here," he added quickly, stepping closer. "You could have a good life. A real life. One where you're not stuck with your father."
And there it was.
The crack in her calm.
Luna straightened. Her smile vanished.
"Leave me alone, Mike," she said, sharp and sudden, like lightning in a bottle. "I will never marry you. And I'm not going anywhere."
She turned her back on him, her hands trembling just slightly as she reached for another vine. The wind had shifted now, cooler, less forgiving.
Mike's voice dropped, low and guttural. "You will be mine, you hear me?"
His hand clamped around Luna's wrist, rough and possessive—no trace of the shy boy who once followed her around the orchard with daisy chains and apple slices.
Luna froze. For a split second, disbelief flickered in her eyes. Then fire.
"Let me go," she warned, her voice trembling not with fear, but fury.
From across the field, Lucas had seen enough.
Standing tall in his weathered boots, the farm owner narrowed his eyes, jaw tightening. He hated bullies—despised them with the kind of quiet rage that came from a life spent defending the voiceless. His workers weren't just laborers to him. They were people. Family.
But Luna didn't need saving.
Not today.
With a sharp twist, she tore her arm free from Mike's grip. And before he could blink, her palm cracked hard across his cheek.
The sound echoed through the rows like a whipcrack.
Her gaze cut through him, fierce and unyielding. Then, with her chin high and her simple cotton dress billowing in the breeze, she turned and walked away—like royalty in borrowed clothes.
A gem hidden in plain sight.
Lucas exhaled quietly, eyes following her retreating form with something unreadable behind his stare.
"Boss," came a voice beside him, pulling him back to the present.
Moses, the farm supervisor, approached with a proud smile and a clipboard tucked under one arm. "This month's harvest—it's looking amazing. Best yield we've had in years."
Lucas nodded, his gaze lingering once more toward the vine rows before turning to face Moses. "Yes. Well done. Make sure the produce gets to the company in three days. Quality check everything twice."
"Already on it," Moses said with a grin. "You leaving for the city tonight?"
Lucas gave a slow nod. "Yeah. It's time."
Moses hesitated, scratching at his beard. "Shame, though. My daughter's wedding is today. Would've meant a lot to have you there."
Lucas looked at him, then placed a firm hand on the man's shoulder. "Of course I'll be there. Wouldn't miss it."
Relief flooded Moses' face. "Thank you, boss."
"That's fine," Lucas replied simply, stepping back.
He turned toward his car, the dust rising around his boots as he walked. But before he reached the door, he paused—eyes drifting once more toward the vines, where Luna had disappeared.