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Haley adjusted the strap of her cornflower-blue dress for the fourth time. It was flawless—pressed to perfection, cinched at the waist, soft silk brushing her knees. Too flawless for a guest. Too flawless for someone who wasn’t the bride.
She stood beside Alex as the folding chairs filled in, the late spring sun spilling gold over the forest clearing. He looked good, in that simple way Alex always did—hands in his pockets, hair pushed back just enough to show off the square cut of his jaw. He nudged her shoulder lightly, grinning down at her like he always did when he scored a touchdown, like even this moment was somehow for her.
He had kissed her goodbye on countless nights beneath the porch light. He had brought her burnt toast in bed on their anniversary, beaming like he’d served her a gourmet meal. He had given her the biggest diamond ring she’d ever seen, the kind of thing girls in bridal magazines cried about.
And she had said yes.
Haley’s eyes drifted to the decorations. Daisies. Wildflowers. Some slightly wilted. The arrangements could’ve used more color, more structure, more thought. But of course—Leah wasn’t picky like she was.
A wedding in the middle of the woods. Not something Haley would’ve chosen. But again, it wasn’t her wedding day.
The crowd fell quiet as Lewis stepped forward, clearing his throat with an officious smile.
The vows were sweet. Homemade. Full of awkward charm.
Then clapping. Loud and bright. The so-nice farm girl had just married Leah, the nicest lesbian in Pelican Town.
And as the newlyweds leaned in, all soft smiles and radiant cheeks, Haley’s stomach twisted.
The kiss was tender. Honest.
Everyone clapped.
Alex leaned down to press a kiss to her perfectly waved hair.
“They’re kinda cute,” he murmured. “I’m glad they found each other. Must be hard being queer in a small town.”
Haley didn’t reply.
Boy, he had no idea.
[---]
[Flashback - Age 17]
The bus rattled down the country road, full of chipped vinyl seats and half-hearted morning light. Haley sat in the back, legs crossed, a copy of Seventeen open across her knees.
One earbud dangled in her lap, the other playing some Top 40 hit into her right ear—safe, sugary pop. On the glossy page in front of her, a model leaned against a velvet chaise, laughing in soft focus. Her dress slipped up her thigh just enough. The fabric looked like water.
Haley swallowed.
She stared at the picture a second too long. Her eyes traced the curve of the model’s leg, the delicate way the silk clung to her skin.
Her seatmate shifted—Kylie, track team, always wore that same spray of cucumber melon body mist—and Haley quickly turned the page to a boy band spread. She made a low, impressed sound.
“God,” she muttered, fake-adoring. “He’s so hot.”
Kylie peeked over her shoulder. “Ugh, seriously? He looks like someone’s lost chihuahua.”
Haley laughed. Too loudly. Her cheeks were warm.
She didn’t look back at the dress.
At the front of the bus, a boy yelled, “Hey, did you hear about Mason?”
The tone was sharp. Loud enough to slice through every whispered conversation.
“What?” someone else asked.
“Came out to his best friend. What a dumbass. Dude basically asked to be a joke.”
Haley felt her stomach drop.
“Seriously,” another voice chimed in. “He touched my shoulder once in gym. I’m not even kidding. He lingered. ”
Someone made gagging sounds. A third guy whined, “Now we gotta share lockers with him? Like, sorry, but I’m not changing next to a perv.”
Laughter.
Kylie leaned closer and whispered, “I always thought he was weird. That voice? Total giveaway.” She laughed under her breath. “Guess we know who he was staring at in the locker room.”
Haley didn’t laugh this time.
She stared down at the magazine in her lap. Her heart beat too fast, too loud.
The model’s eyes stared back up at her from the page—confident, untouchable.
By the time they reached the school parking lot, Haley had already decided:
She would be the pretty one.
She would wear the best clothes.
She would only talk about boys.
She would never, ever be the topic of that kind of conversation.
She stepped off the bus with her chin held high and her lips painted pink.
No one would ever guess.
[---]
[Flashback - Age 22]
After college, Haley hadn’t planned on staying in the city, but the Master of Arts program practically begged for someone with her photography portfolio. She’d smile at that memory sometimes. Not because it was sweet, but because it was perfectly marketable. A girl with long blond hair and expensive boots, taking moody black-and-white portraits of decaying barns and empty porches. Professors loved the contrast. She gave them exactly what they wanted.
She met Miranda in junior year, during a lecture on semiotics in art. Miranda wore a high-waisted lavender skirt, a matching headband, and glittery ballet flats—like a pastel ghost of 1950s housewife perfection. They sat next to each other during an assigned group critique, and Haley knew instantly: Miranda was the kind of girl people trusted.
Within a week, Haley knew everything about her. Her favorite cake was lemon with raspberry filling. Her favorite fashion icon was Jackie Kennedy. Her first kiss was with a boy named Wes in a youth group camp, under a cross-shaped fairy light. The first guy to go down on her was named Jordan, and she still texted him sometimes, just to see if he’d beg.
Miranda knew almost nothing about Haley.
That she was naturally blonde.
That she liked photography.
That she’d once kissed a guy named Austin at a house party, but "it didn’t mean anything."
If Miranda noticed the imbalance, she didn’t mention it. She just talked. And Haley let her.
(...)
They were in Miranda’s apartment when she brought up Jenna.
“You know she works there, right?” Miranda said, sipping her iced coffee like she wasn’t about to launch a nuclear bomb across campus.
“Where’s ‘there’?” Haley asked, flipping through a fashion magazine she’d already read twice.
Miranda smirked. “Club Eclipse. Off Ninth. You know, the one with the LED poles and the sad little buffet?”
Haley blinked. “You mean like—”
“Stripping, yeah. Isn’t that wild?”
Haley stayed quiet. She thought about Jenna’s oil portraits. The delicate way she painted hands. The way her lips trembled when she gave critiques, like she was never sure if she was allowed to speak.
“She’s paying for college,” Miranda added with a giggle. “I mean, girlboss, but still.”
Haley wanted to ask, Why are you telling me this? But she already knew.
Because Miranda told everyone everything.
And sure enough—by Friday night, Miranda had already convinced Jonah, Henry, Todd, and Alex to make a “group field trip” to Eclipse.
Haley had protested, weakly, halfway through lunch.
“She wouldn’t want us there,” she said, picking at the crust of her sandwich.
“Oh, please,” Miranda said, swirling her straw. “She’ll never even notice us. She’s too busy shaking her ass for dollar bills.”
“I don’t think this is funny.”
Miranda’s smile faltered just slightly. “Don’t be so uptight, Hales. You wouldn’t want Alex staring at some stripper’s ass instead of yours, would you?”
Haley stared at her friend.
She didn’t care about Alex. She’d picked his name at random, the first athlete she could think of when Miranda asked her who she liked—just so Miranda wouldn’t press harder.
And now here she was. With Alex. With the boys. In a dark club that smelled like cheap cologne and sticky tequila. Watching someone they knew walk onto the stage in six-inch heels and a trembling smile.
Bass thudded against her ribs. Lights strobed in nauseating colors. And there—stepping onto the stage in six-inch heels and a trembling smile—was Jenna.
Haley felt weird. Not the kind of weird that made you laugh at the absurdity of the night, but the kind that made your hands feel too big for your body.
Miranda was drunk. She’d ordered a round of neon cocktails with names like Sex with a Stranger and Blue Razz Rocket and didn't know when to stop. She was screaming "Wooo!" between sips, like it was spring break, like this was fun.
Maybe it was—for the guys.
Maybe that’s why Miranda leaned into a stripper named Karma, all red lipstick and satin skin, and tucked a crisp twenty into her bra with a giggle. She winked at the boys. They howled.
Haley watched, stomach twisting.
It was one thing for girls like Miranda to do that. They were so sure of themselves, so comfortable in their skin. They could touch another woman without overthinking it, because they knew exactly where they stood.
Straight girls didn’t worry about the lingering heat in their palms.
Straight girls didn’t feel this.
Miranda turned to her, thrusting a ten-dollar bill into Haley’s hand. “It’s fun for them!” she yelled, barely above the music, then leaned in closer. “Come on, do it. Alex is watching.”
Haley looked toward the stage. Karma was dancing now, back arched, g-string glittering under the club lights.
Haley hesitated—then stood, legs unsteady. She approached, heart pounding, and slowly slipped the ten into Karma’s waistband.
Her fingers brushed skin.
It was soft. Warm. Beautiful.
Haley wanted her skin to feel like that too.
She didn’t want to pull her hand away. But she counted—one Mississippi, two—and then forced herself to let go. 2.3 seconds. That was too long, right? Too long for a straight girl?
Karma looked down and smiled. “Thanks, baby.”
That was it. That was too much.
Haley turned on her heel and walked straight out the back door, into the cold alley.
The air outside hit her lungs like glass. She blinked fast. Don’t cry. Crying at a strip club wasn’t something fun girls did.
She leaned against the brick wall, arms folded, nails digging into her sleeves.
A moment later, the door creaked open. Alex stepped out, hands in his jacket pockets.
“You okay?” he asked.
Haley didn’t turn to face him. “Why aren’t you inside?” she muttered. “A girl’s taking her bra off. Thought that’d be your thing.”
Alex gave a soft chuckle. “I dunno... I guess I’d rather be with someone who actually wants me to see her like that. You know—if she liked me.”
Haley turned her head. He looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I feel bad for Jenna,” he said after a pause. “Didn’t sound like a big deal when the guys brought it up, but… I think I saw her take someone into a private room. And it just hit me how messed up this could be for her.”
Haley stared at him.
Alex was a nice guy. Sweet, in a way that made her chest ache.
For a moment, she thought: Maybe we could be friends.
Then he leaned in, voice low. “Wanna get out of here?”
It took everything in her not to run.
She had to focus on her feet.
Move.
One step. Then another.
The chilly air had turned windy. It tugged at her hair, stung her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around herself and didn’t say a word as they walked.
She noticed Alex’s hand settle on her lower back. It drifted, subtle but steady, until it was resting on her ass.
Haley looked at him.
Sweet, big brown eyes. A little flushed from the drinks, maybe. Or maybe from her.
He was warm. Solid. Familiar.
She reached up and pulled him in by the collar.
Kissed him.
His lips were soft, but the skin around his mouth was rough—like a beard was starting to come in.
She kept her eyes closed.
When she pulled away, she gave a little laugh. “I’m sorry,” she said, too fast. “I guess I’m drunker than I thought.”
Alex smiled, but it was tight. Like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to believe her or not.
Still, he pulled out his phone and called a cab.
He kissed her goodnight. Gentle, patient.
And she left.
Alone in the backseat, Haley pressed her fingers to her mouth.
The taste of him still lingered.
But it wasn’t what she wanted.
Not really.
[---]
[Flashback - Age 24]
After getting her Master’s degree, Haley moved back to Pelican Town to live with her sister, Emily. Three years older and somehow still managing to look twelve.
Emily talked to crystals. And birds. She’d always done that—back when Haley was little, it had been cute. Magical, even. But now it grated on her nerves like static.
Their parents had moved to another continent.
Some big promotion for their dad.
Some even bigger excuse to leave their daughters behind.
Haley hadn’t wanted to come back. She was supposed to live in a city. Somewhere with glossy storefronts and gallery openings and rooftop bars. But instead she was stuck in a valley that shut down at 8 p.m., sleeping in a house that smelled like sage and sandalwood while Emily tried to “cleanse” it of negative energy.
To her credit, Emily worked her ass off—waitressing nights at the Stardrop Saloon and still somehow managing to cover groceries when Haley’s freelance photography jobs didn’t pay out. Haley hated depending on her. But she was also grateful.
Even if all she ever got hired for out here was photographing old barns, Jojamart billboards, and dusty flyers for community events that no one attended.
This wasn’t a life. It was a waiting room.
Alex didn’t see it that way. He thought Pelican Town was charming. Said it was fate that his grandparents happened to live there too. “Maybe we were meant to end up together,” he’d said one day, with that boyish smile.
Haley had smiled back. Had kissed him, even.
And then spent the rest of the afternoon trying not to throw up.
But Alex was sweet. He never pressured her into sex. Not really. Not until she brought it up—because a year of dating had passed and Miranda’s voice still haunted her sometimes.
It’s been a year? Miranda had said once, eyes wide. God, I’d be climbing the walls.
Haley didn’t tell Miranda the truth. That every time she took off her clothes with Alex, she felt like she was watching herself from above, performing something she had no part in writing.
She didn’t talk to Miranda at all anymore.
Miranda had rich parents, a dream job at a fashion magazine in the city, and a new boyfriend with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, who wore cologne that smelled like money and called her “babe” like it was a full sentence.
Haley had barns. And bad lighting. And a sponsored photoshoot for Jojamart’s new aisle signage.
Everything was beige.
Monotone.
Straight.
Until the farmer ruined everything.
[---]
Haley tried to be mean to her, at first.
She rolled her eyes at her name—it was rustic, and felt like calluses and dirt under its fingernails.
She dismissed her awful taste in fashion (linen? in spring? what was this, a 2004 JCPenney ad?).
She pretended she didn’t care when she saw her walking through town, talking to the locals like she actually belonged there.
But the farmer wouldn’t leave her alone.
It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t even flirtatious.
It was persistent.
Like gravity.
She found Haley one afternoon photographing the fountain near the community center—just trying to catch the way the light hit the water—and handed her a daffodil.
“Because it reminded me of you,” she said, smiling like it wasn’t the most ridiculous line anyone had ever used. “Bright. Yellow. Beautiful.”
Haley had scoffed. “That’s not even a compliment. That’s floral harassment.”
But she still took the flower.
Another day, Haley was out at Marnie’s, getting pictures of the newborn calves for some ad campaign—“Two calves for the price of one and a half! ” was going to be the headline, god help her—and the farmer just showed up.
Leaning against the fence, making small talk about how cute baby cows were. Saying stuff like they’re so small, it’s almost rude and laughing at her own jokes.
She even befriended Emily.
That was what pissed Haley off most. Emily, with her glitter and her crystals and her homegrown sage bundles, loved her.
Said the farmer had “a pure aura.”
Haley wanted to scream.
She brought it up to Alex one night, sprawled on his couch while he flipped through sports channels.
“She has no sense of boundaries,” Haley said. “She’s like... clingy golden retriever energy in denim overalls.”
Alex chuckled. “Looks like you got a fan. Or a friend.”
A friend.
The word curled in her stomach like spoiled milk.
Then came her birthday.
And the cake.
It was pink. Perfectly frosted. Clearly homemade but almost offensively charming.
Strawberries on top.
Apparently Emily just had to tell everyone that pink cake was Haley’s favorite.
The farmer showed up at the door with the cake and a ribbon in her hair—who even wore ribbons anymore?—and said, “Happy birthday, Haley,” with this smile like it meant something.
And Haley smiled back. That was her first mistake.
Because then the farm girl said, “You should do that more often. You’ve got a really beautiful smile.”
And Haley’s chest burned.
Not with embarrassment. Not with pride.
With something else.
Something she hadn’t felt since that strip club. Since the skin-on-skin softness of a woman’s thigh under her fingers.
And something deeper. Lower. Between her thighs.
That hadn’t burned in months.
[---]
The second mistake happened when the farmer found Haley’s grandmother’s bracelet.
She had worn it the night before, out on a date with Alex—the usual: salty air, lukewarm kisses, empty compliments that sounded like they came from the back of a Hallmark card. They’d walked along the beach, sat near the tide with their shoes off. She remembered feeling nothing when he kissed her forehead.
By the time she got home, the bracelet was gone. The tiny silver clasp must’ve snapped loose somewhere in the sand. Haley had cried. Silently, in the bathroom, with the door locked. Her grandmother gave her that bracelet the year before she died.
She’d accepted it was gone.
Until the farmer knocked on her door two days later, sand still stuck to her boots and seaweed in her hair, holding it out like it was a peace offering.
“Found it near Elliott’s place,” she said, and smiled, like it wasn’t a miracle.
Haley didn’t mean to hug her. It just happened—arms wrapped tight around damp flannel, the scent of saltwater and lavender hand cream in her nose. And then, like muscle memory, she leaned back and said something flirty. Something dumb. Something like:
“Guess I owe you a kiss or two, huh?”
She didn’t regret it. Not at first.
The farmer’s ears turned bright red. Almost comically red. It was so easy—so much easier than Alex.
There was something wickedly fun about it, like teasing a teacher’s pet.
But Haley had never enjoyed flirting before. Not like this.
And that was the problem.
She started seeing more of her. Everywhere. At the general store. Outside the clinic. At the library, talking to Penny about books like she actually read them.
She was kind. Awkward. Weirdly patient.
She liked fishing and spelunking and killing things with swords, which was bizarre and a little cool.
She ate weird food. Said “excuse me” to animals when she passed them. Had calluses on her palms that caught on Haley’s fingers once, when they reached for the same photo print on the table.
Haley could see why Emily liked her.
At first, the flirting was still a game.
She flirted because it was fun. Because it kept things light.
But slowly—so slowly she didn’t even realize it—she stopped playing.
And then came the rain.
Haley had been out in the public garden, bent low with her camera to get a shot of a robin pulling a worm from the earth. It was gross and oddly beautiful. She wanted to frame it. Call it something ironic.
Then thunder cracked above her.
“Shit,” she hissed, holding her jacket over her head as her curls started to frizz. Her perfect curls. She hadn’t brought an umbrella—of course she hadn’t.
Then she heard it.
Boots in wet grass. A presence. That quiet energy like someone who didn’t speak unless they meant it.
Haley turned, and there she was.
The farmer. In soaked overalls and a half-smile. Standing a few feet away like she’d been there the whole time.
She didn’t say anything.
She just looked at Haley. Like she was memorizing her. Like she was seeing past the expensive mascara and the attitude and the years of performance.
Not even Alex looked at her like that.
Haley’s chest tightened.
She laughed, sharp and awkward, and shoved the farmer’s shoulder lightly.
“Gross. You’re all wet.”
The farmer didn’t move. She just smiled. Tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear and said nothing.
That night, Haley couldn’t sleep.
She lay in bed staring at the ceiling, every muscle in her body tense. Her curls were ruined. Her boots were still muddy in the hallway. And all she could think about was the way that woman had looked at her.
Like she knew something Haley hadn’t figured out yet.
[---]
Haley’s third mistake happened just before fall.
The saloon was packed that night—shoulder to shoulder, warm beer breath mixing with the smell of fried bar food and cheap perfume. Everyone was there, gathered around Gus’s ancient TV set, the screen fuzzy at the corners but good enough to watch him.
Alex.
He looked like a star. Number 7. Running across the field like it was his. He caught the ball like he was born with it in his hands.
“That’s my grandson!! ” George cried, voice cracking with pride. Evelyn touched her dress like she was holding her heart in.
When Alex made a score, Sam yelled and grabbed Sebastian in a headlock, spinning him like a kid. Abigail screamed. Even Gus clapped behind the counter.
Penny leaned in toward Haley with a soft, almost motherly smile. “You must feel so proud,” she said. “Seeing your boyfriend become so big.”
Haley didn’t answer. She just sipped her drink and let the carbonation burn the back of her throat.
She should feel proud. She should be glowing. Smiling. Swooning.
But all she felt was... nothing.
A weird, cold kind of nothing.
When the game ended and the crowd started to thin out, Haley slipped away. She told Emily she needed to photograph the moon over the river—something poetic and pretentious enough to earn a nod of understanding.
But really, she just needed air. And distance. And to be somewhere quiet enough to cry without explaining why.
She found herself near the bridge, the river soft and slow beneath her. The moon shimmered on the surface like it was about to break in half. Her camera hung from her neck, untouched. She leaned on the railing, her face cold, her eyes stinging.
She thought about Alex.
His gentle hands. His warm smile. His stupid, beautiful jawline. The way he laughed when she said something mean. The way he kissed her wrist when he thought she was asleep. The way he told her he’d wait.
Alex, who loved running in open fields and throwing the ball for his dog and saying he’d never met anyone as beautiful as her.
Why couldn’t she love him?
A voice startled her.
“You okay?”
The farmer.
She turned her head slightly but didn’t answer. Her face was wet—maybe from the wind, maybe not.
The farmer stepped closer, holding something in her hand.
“I’ve been meaning to give you this all day,” she said quietly, “but I didn’t have the courage.”
She pulled it out of her satchel.
A bouquet.
Purple. Tied with twine.
The bouquet. The kind people give when they want something more than friendship. When they’re asking something without saying the words.
Haley stared at it like it might catch fire in her hands.
She reached for sarcasm like a lifeline. “Seriously? That’s so corny.”
The farmer didn’t smile. Didn’t flinch.
“I have a boyfriend, you know,” Haley said. Her voice cracked halfway through. “Alex. The one we were just watching on television. ”
The farmer just nodded. Looked at her like she already knew that.
“You don’t look happy,” she said.
Haley glanced down at the bouquet. Her fingers brushed one of the flowers. It was softer than it should’ve been. Delicate. Like her.
And then, without thinking, without planning, without permission from her own brain, Haley leaned in and kissed her.
It wasn’t gentle.
It was hungry. Like her lips had been waiting for that exact shape and pressure her whole life and didn’t know it until now. The farmer kissed her back—her hands on Haley’s waist, warm and steady and completely certain.
Haley’s stomach twisted.
She stepped back, breath catching. Looked into those stupid eyes. Felt her heart do something ugly and new.
And then—God help her—she kissed her again.
That was Haley’s third mistake.
[---]
They kissed in secret.
Behind the community center, under the rustle of the old trees that had lost most of their leaves. Only at night. Always when Alex was out of town for a game.
Haley told herself it was just a season. Something that would pass like the colors of fall.
But it didn’t feel seasonal when the farmer’s hands found her waist, when their mouths found each other in the hush between midnight and morning.
It didn’t feel like something temporary when Haley pressed her forehead to the farmer’s shoulder and forgot, for a moment, who she was supposed to be.
They kissed the entire fall.
But when the sun came up, Haley vanished.
She’d turn her face when they passed in town, pretend to be busy at Joja or talk too loudly to Sam, or clutch Alex’s hand too tight, like her life depended on it.
At the harvest festival, she pretended not to see the farmer’s grange display, even when she heard people murmuring about the quality of her produce.
She told Alex his pie was the best one there, even though it tasted like raw flour and regret.
At Spirit’s Eve, Haley walked through the corn maze with him.
Held his hand, smiled for photos.
She even kissed him inside the hedge walls, just once, for appearances.
But her head was full of someone else—
A woman in denim overalls with dirt under her nails, who was probably somewhere in the maze, looking for the golden pumpkin with a flashlight in one hand and her heart in the other.
[---]
Winter came too fast.
And it brought snow, and silence, and a kind of stillness that made it too risky to sneak around.
So Haley didn’t.
She stayed in Alex’s room during the day, where the curtains were half-closed and the heater clicked too loud.
They kept the door open, because Evelyn insisted— “You know how boys are.”
Haley smiled. Played the good girlfriend. Didn’t even flinch.
At night, she’d go home. Sit across the dinner table from Emily. Push peas around her plate. Crawl into bed before 10.
She walked with Alex through the night market, holding hot cocoa and pretending to marvel at the lights.
But her eyes were on the pier.
Where the farmer stood, patient and still, reeling in squids like nothing had ever happened between them.
At the Feast of the Winter Star, Haley sat between Alex and Evelyn.
A roast in the middle of the table, steam rising, George muttering about the weather.
Haley took small bites, drank too much wine.
She searched the crowd without meaning to.
Just a glance. A flicker.
When Evelyn leaned over, her pearl earrings catching the light, and said,
"So… when are we going to start planning a wedding?"
Haley almost choked on her drink.
Alex laughed and put a hand on her back. “One day,” he said, easy, like it didn’t sting. “When the time’s right.”
Haley smiled.
And folded her napkin over her lap to hide the way her hands were shaking.
[---]
[Flashback - Age 25]
Spring came with the scent of blossoms and the weight of pretending.
On her birthday, Alex gave her a new camera—sleek, professional, expensive.
“Only the best for my perfect girlfriend,” he said with that wide, earnest smile.
Haley kissed him and smiled back, like she believed it too.
She spent the day with him.
Let him lead her by the hand to the forest for a picnic he packed himself.
Let him touch her gently in the tall grass, murmuring her name like a promise.
Let him slip his fingers under her waistband, brush his lips along her shoulder blades.
“Damn, babe,” he laughed into her neck, breath warm. “Feels like it’s my birthday.”
She didn’t flinch.
She even laughed.
That night, he kissed her long and slow on her porch, arms around her waist, forehead resting against hers.
“I’ve got that big game tomorrow,” he whispered. “But I’ll dream about you.”
She nodded. Watched him walk away. Counted the steps in the gravel until she couldn’t hear him anymore.
Then she waited.
An hour later, behind the community center, the farmer was already there—leaning against the wall, arms crossed, hair slightly messy from the wind.
“You came,” she said, like she hadn’t doubted it at all.
Haley didn’t answer.
She just walked forward and kissed her.
The farmer’s hands moved up her thighs, then under her skirt. Her breath caught when calloused fingers slid over her.
She moaned into the crook of her neck, clutching at denim and warm skin.
The farmer kissed her collarbone—soft, reverent—and murmured, “Happy birthday.”
Haley's nails dug into her shoulder, grounding herself in the heat, the weight, the want.
This was hers. This was real.
Here, under the stars and out of sight, she could breathe.
Everything was perfect.
For a moment.
Or so she thought.
[---]
The farmer knocked on Haley’s door around 3 p.m.
Sunlight spilled through the windows. Too bright. Too exposing.
Haley’s stomach dropped.
They had agreed— only at night.
Never during the day. Never like this.
“Walk with me?” the farmer asked. Her voice was calm, like they hadn’t broken every rule already.
Haley didn’t answer. She just grabbed her jacket, locked the door behind her, and followed.
They walked in silence through the woods, past the tall grass and the abandoned playground, until they reached a quiet tree in the Cindersap Forest.
It was a good spot, Haley had heard. Something about it gave a clear view of the Wizard’s Tower. She had never actually looked.
The farmer stared out ahead.
“I can’t keep doing this anymore,” she said.
She didn’t look at Haley.
“What, the farming work?” Haley asked, trying to make it light. It came out bitter.
The farmer didn’t laugh.
“Leah asked me out yesterday.”
Haley blinked.
It felt like getting the wind knocked out of her.
The farmer spoke slowly. Not angry— just done.
“I really thought you just needed time,” she said.
Her voice was quiet, but steady. “I thought if I was patient, you’d stop being afraid. I thought the fear would fade, and the love would get louder.”
Haley looked at her shoes.
“But then you kept kissing him in public,” the farmer continued. “You kept holding his hand, walking beside him like he was everything. Like I was nothing.” Her breath hitched. “You didn’t even look at me during the Harvest Festival.” She gave a small, bitter laugh. “You kissed him in the maze during Spirit’s Eve. Did you know I saw that? I was two rows away, holding a damn golden pumpkin.”
Haley flinched. She didn’t remember looking.
“And me?” the farmer said, voice sharper now. “I’m just your secret. Something that happens at eleven p.m. behind the community center, when no one else is watching.
And in the daylight? You act like I don’t exist.”
Haley’s throat felt tight. Her chest was a fist clenched around her ribs.
She wanted to speak—say something, anything—but her tongue felt heavy, useless.
Because she knew. She knew exactly where this was going, and she had no excuse.
The farmer’s words hit her like a stone dropped in water—rippling out, unsettling everything beneath the surface.
You act like I don’t exist.
She did. God, she really did.
Haley wanted to scream at herself—how had she been so stupid? So naive to think they could just keep stealing kisses in the dark and it wouldn’t come to this?
She thought if she kept it quiet, it would feel safer. Less real.
But the farmer was real. Warm, and strong, and impossibly patient.
And now, finally, out of patience.
Haley looked at her—really looked. The flush in her cheeks, the gloss in her eyes. The pain she was trying to swallow down.
“I want to love someone who’ll love me too,” the farmer said. Her voice broke slightly. “Openly.”
Haley flinched.
Because she did. She wanted to love her.
But she didn’t want to be reduced to that.
Didn’t want her name to be whispered in the aisles of Pierre’s, didn’t want kids to giggle behind her back, or for people to smile at her too wide like they were being accepting.
She didn’t want to be the poster girl for “coming out.”
Didn’t want the spotlight.
Didn’t want to be known for the wrong thing.
She wanted to be brave. She really did.
But wanting wasn’t enough.
“If you can’t give me that,” the farmer said softly, “then you should let me go.”
There was a beat.
Haley could’ve said something.
She could’ve grabbed her hand. Could’ve told her she was scared but trying. That she wanted to choose her. That she would.
But she didn’t.
And that was her final mistake.
[---]
[Present - Wedding Day]
Haley lifts her camera just as Elliott starts his speech.
Click.
Leah had hired her to photograph the post-vow party. Haley didn’t say no. No one said no to Leah. She wouldn't be the first.
Of course it’s Leah, she thinks. Everyone loves Leah. Leah can kiss girls and still be adored for it.
She presses the shutter again— click —capturing Leah’s blushing cheeks, the farmer’s soft smile.
And me? I would’ve been the gossip. The cautionary tale. The disappointment.
She watches them kiss. The guests erupt into applause.
Haley doesn’t clap.
She keeps working, finishing the shots with practiced efficiency. Pretending.
She thinks she’s doing a good job hiding it—until Emily catches her eye. Haley looks away too fast.
Later, everyone’s dancing.
Alex finds her, asks if she wants to dance too.
“I’ve got some stuff to finish at home,” Haley says.
She leaves early. Alone.
She walks past the old tree in Cindersap Forest—the one they sat under that day.
The tree still stands, of course. Solid and unmoved. Like it didn’t hear the words that changed everything.
Soon, it’ll be her wedding day. With Alex.
She reaches out and touches the bark. It's rough beneath her fingers.
This is where the farmer broke her heart.
No—where Haley broke her own.
It still hurts to even think of her name.
Not without something in Haley shattering, quietly, again.
She takes a deep breath.
Then she walks away.