Asosura was small—just a quiet town cradled between green hills and sun-drenched fields—but to those who called it home, it was a slice of heaven. The land stretched endlessly, painted with wildflowers and lined with old stone fences that whispered stories of generations past. And though life here was simple, the people were proud—hands calloused, hearts steady.
Lucas rolled to a stop in front of the old Montenegro Aguas mansion, its once-bustling grandeur now wrapped in stillness. The family had long since moved to the city—high rises, boardrooms, and power lunches had replaced backyard fruit stalls and the chatter of the community. Now, the house stood more like a monument than a home. Wide halls, high ceilings, and the hollow kind of quiet that came when something once alive had stopped breathing.
"Welcome home, Boss," said Lucia, her voice warm and weathered. She stood at the door, wiping her hands on her apron, eyes soft with the kind of affection only time could earn.
"Thank you, Lucia," Lucas said with a small smile. "Don't worry. I'll take a look around myself. I'll change, then head to Moses' daughter's wedding. I'll leave for the city straight from there."
She hesitated, shifting on her feet like she wanted to fuss. "Will you eat something before—?"
"I'm fine," he said gently, cutting her off but not unkindly. "I won't be long."
Lucia watched him disappear up the marble staircase. She had watched him grow from a boy with questions to a man with answers. But even now, there was something unsettled in him. Something is still searching.
Not far across town, in a crumbling house that time had not been kind to, another kind of storm brewed.
"I swear to God, I'll kill you if I see you with that boy again. Do you hear me?!"
Luna flinched as her father's roar echoed through the thin walls. The stench of liquor clung to him like a second skin, his shirt half-buttoned, eyes red and wild.
"Papa—please—I don't even talk to him," Luna said quickly, tears already lining her lashes. Her voice was small, fragile, like a bird's wing fluttering in a storm.
"Don't you lie to me, girl!" he snapped, staggering closer. His hand shot into the air.
She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the sting—
"That's enough!" her mother's voice broke through, sharp and commanding as she entered the room, her presence like a shield. She stood between them, the years of quiet suffering etched on her face, but her spine was steel.
"Go get changed, Luna," she said more softly now, her hand resting on her daughter's trembling back. "You'll be late for the wedding."
Luna nodded silently, eyes cast down as she slipped past her father and disappeared into the back room.
Her chest hurt, but she didn't cry. She wouldn't give the pain that power.
"Don't you dare interfere again unless you want me to beat you too!"
His words spat through the air like poison, and Luna's mother flinched—not for herself, but for the children just down the hall who might hear.
With a trembling hand, she reached into the fold of her apron and pulled out the last of her market earnings—worn, crumpled notes that she had carefully hidden away for oil, sugar, and soap. She placed them silently in his outstretched palm.
He snatched the money without a word of thanks, staggering back toward the gate with a bottle of whiskey in his other hand like some cursed talisman.
The door slammed behind him. Stillness returned. Heavy. Bruised.
Inside the cramped room she shared with her younger brother, Luna helped Louis with the buttons on his shirt while smoothing down the creases in her own dress. Tonight wasn't just any night—it was Mina's wedding. Mina, her best friend since they were little girls with skinned knees and wild dreams. They'd shared secrets beneath mango trees and promised to grow old side by side.
Mina had found love early—barely twenty and already marrying a man who treated her like she was made of starlight.
Luna was happy for her. Truly. But inside her chest, another longing stirred.
She didn't want a husband—not yet. She wanted more. School. A life beyond the boundaries of Asosura. She dreamed of white coats, of hospitals and healing hands, of becoming someone who could save others the way no one had ever saved her.
Her father called it foolishness. Every time she mentioned her dreams, he'd bark laughter and say no one wanted a doctor with dirt under her nails. But Luna never stopped trying. Every night, after work and after everyone was asleep, she'd sneak out. She'd tiptoe barefoot to the small, dusty library in the heart of town and devour every medical book she could find by the flickering light of a kerosene lamp. It was the only part of her life that felt like hers.
"You look beautiful, my daughter," her mother said gently, reaching for Luna's face. Her touch was soft, reverent, the kind that mothers give only when they don't know how else to protect you.
"My pride and joy."
"Oh, Mama," Luna whispered, her throat tight. "My beautiful queen."
They embraced—quiet, deep, healing.
"You two are impossible," Louis groaned, shifting awkwardly in his shoes. "Can we go now?"
Mrs. Boro laughed, pulling him into a hug. "Come here, my boy." She wrapped her arms around both of them like she was holding the last good things she had in this world. "You're all I live for. I'd do anything for your happiness."
"Alright, Mama," Luna said softly. "We'll be late."
She took her brother's hand, and together they stepped out into the dusty compound—only to stop short.
Their father was still there