The market was alive with the scents of fresh bread, dried herbs, and roasted coffee. Vibrant stalls lined the narrow streets, children darted between carts, and the hum of local gossip filled the air. Adrian adjusted his jacket, feeling like an outsider in a world that smelled of earth and tradition instead of money and glass towers.
"This is… different," he murmured, mostly to himself, as Isla wove through the crowd with the ease of someone born to these streets.
"Different?" Isla asked, glancing at him over her shoulder with a teasing smile. "You mean you've never seen people actually live outside a city skyscraper?"
"I've… seen life," he said cautiously, not wanting to admit how alien this was. "But I haven't… felt it."
Her smile widened. "Well, welcome to real life, city boy. Try to keep up."
He raised an eyebrow. "Real life, huh? That sounds… challenging."
Isla smirked. "It is. And for outsiders like you, it's… enlightening."
Adrian followed her through the maze of stalls, trying to match her pace. Every few steps, he noticed how locals whispered, casting curious glances. Some seemed impressed, others suspicious. And yet… she moved with confidence, a natural authority he didn't expect.
"So, let me guess," he said, pointing to a small stall selling handmade jewelry, "you're the type who knows everyone here?"
"Not everyone," she said, examining a bracelet on a nearby stand. "But people respect the land. And that means they respect me."
He watched her, intrigued. "Respect… or fear?"
"Maybe a little of both," she admitted, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Does it matter which?"
Adrian chuckled softly. "Not if you can handle it."
They stopped at a stall selling old photographs and local memorabilia. Isla picked up a small frame—a faded photo of two young adults smiling on a sunlit porch. Adrian's breath caught.
"Who are they?" he asked, leaning closer, his eyes narrowing slightly.
She glanced down, her fingers tightening around the frame. "My parents. That's them. My mom, Catherine… and my dad. You've probably never heard of him."
"Catherine…" he muttered, voice low, almost to himself. The name struck something in him—a faint pang of recognition he couldn't explain. "Do… they live here?"
She shook her head. "No. They left a long time ago. The land… it's all I have left."
Adrian's gaze lingered on her, sensing the weight she carried. "The land," he repeated softly. "It must mean a lot to you."
"It does," she said, her voice firm. "More than anyone can understand. That's why I don't trust outsiders easily."
He raised a hand, not to touch, but to emphasize sincerity. "I'm not just another outsider."
Her eyes flickered, uncertain, but she said nothing.
As they moved through the market, Adrian's city habits quickly drew attention. He paused to inspect a handcrafted knife, turning it over with fascination. A small group of local boys snickered.
"See that?" Isla said under her breath, nodding toward the boys. "They've already decided you're… fragile. City-boy fragile."
"Fragile?" he repeated, smirking. "I think I can survive a little teasing."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide a grin. "We'll see."
Adrian caught a glimpse of a man lingering near the edge of the market, partially hidden behind a fruit stand. His posture was casual, yet his eyes were fixed on them. A chill ran down Adrian's spine.
"Who's that?" Isla asked, noticing his subtle shift.
"Just someone… curious," he said, trying not to alarm her. But inside, he was already calculating. Someone was watching. Someone who shouldn't be.
Isla's fingers instinctively curled around her mother's bracelet. "Curious… or dangerous?"
Adrian didn't answer immediately. Instead, he scanned the market, noting shadows and people moving just slightly out of sync. "Possibly both," he said finally. "You need to be careful, Isla. Not everyone here wants us to succeed… or even be friends."
She frowned, heart tightening. "Friends? You mean… you?"
He met her gaze, intensity burning. "For now… yes. Friends. But I don't make promises lightly."
Their path led them to a small café tucked between two stalls. They entered, the scent of roasted coffee beans enveloping them. Isla sat, hands wrapped around a warm cup, while Adrian remained standing for a moment, taking in the room.
"You're very observant," she said, a hint of curiosity in her tone. "Always watching."
"Someone has to," he replied, lowering his voice. "Especially when… shadows are following you."
Isla's eyes widened. "Shadows?"
"The kind that don't belong," he said, finally sitting across from her. "The kind that remind you… nothing here is as simple as it seems."
Before she could respond, a small note slid across the table, seemingly from nowhere. Written in messy handwriting, it read:
"She won't let outsiders near her land. Tread carefully."
Her fingers shook as she picked it up, glancing nervously at Adrian.
He read it quickly, jaw tightening. "I expected this sooner or later. Someone doesn't want me near you… or your land."
"Why?" she whispered, voice trembling slightly. "What have I done?"
"Nothing," he said firmly. "Yet. But people like this… they don't wait. They act first."
Her heart raced, a mix of fear, excitement, and something unfamiliar—trust, maybe, or the beginning of it. "Then… what do we do?"
Adrian's gaze softened, just a fraction. "We survive. We stay close. And we don't let anyone intimidate us—not here, not in this province, not while I'm around."
Outside the café, the shadowy figure melted into the market crowd, unseen by anyone except Adrian.
Inside, as the sunlight dimmed and the market sounds faded, the two sat in tense silence. Two worlds colliding, two lives on the edge of a storm neither fully understood yet.
But one thing was clear: the real challenge—and the danger—had only just begun.