The sun had barely crested the hills when Luna was already in the fields, her bare hands deep in the soil, tending to the rows of young grapevines like they were her children. The air smelled of morning dew and earth, of quiet beginnings and work that didn't ask questions.
Around her, the other workers moved like clockwork—shoulders hunched, heads down, picking, digging, sorting. The sound of laughter came in short bursts. Most mornings in Asosura were like this. Simple. Predictable.
But not for Luna.
Something felt different.
Ever since the wedding, she hadn't been able to shake the feeling that the ground beneath her had shifted, just slightly, like a fault line waiting. And she knew why.
Lucas.
The moment on the narrow path replayed in her head more times than she was willing to admit. The feel of his hand steadying her. The look in his eyes when she said she made her perfume. The way he stared—not like a man who saw a farm girl, but like he saw something more. Something she herself had almost forgotten was there.
It made her heart restless.
And restlessness was dangerous in a place like Asosura. That afternoon, she visited the small town library as she always did when the day allowed. It was her sanctuary—a narrow building with chipped paint and aging shelves, but filled with words that made her feel like she mattered. She tucked herself into the corner where the medical books were, brushing her fingers over the spines like old friends.
She opened a text on anatomy and lost herself in it, unaware that someone had entered behind her.
"Luna?"
She startled.
It was Mike.
Her stomach sank.
"I've been looking for you," he said, his voice too loud for the quiet room. "You weren't at the stalls this morning. I thought maybe something happened."
"I was working," she said shortly, closing the book. "And I didn't ask to be followed."
Mike stepped closer, leaning on the bookshelf. "You haven't answered my proposal. People are talking, Luna. And I'm not going to wait forever."
"I never asked you to wait," she said, standing.
His eyes narrowed, the nice-boy smile vanishing for just a second. "Be careful, Luna. Some offers don't come twice."
She didn't flinch. "Good."
Then she walked past him, out into the evening air where the sky bled gold, her heart pounding, not from fear. But from defiance.
From hope.
The sun had barely dipped behind the hills when Luna walked through the gate of their small compound, her fingers stained with grape juice and soil, her back aching, her thoughts scattered between work and worry. The silence in the yard felt wrong. Too still.
She barely got two steps toward the door when he stepped out.
Her father.
Drunk. Again.
Only this time, there was something colder than liquor in his eyes.
"I heard," he said, voice slow and slurred, "that you've been seen with some fair-skinned boy… parading around like a whore."
Luna froze.
"What…?" she blinked, confused. "Who told you that?"
"Don't talk back to me!" he roared. "Bringing shame to my house—MY name! After everything I've done for you!"
He moved fast—too fast. The slap knocked her sideways, and before she could steady herself, he hit her again, harder. She stumbled into the doorframe, her cheek burning, her ribs aching.
"You ungrateful disgrace," he spat. "I'll kill you before I let you ruin me!"
"Papa, stop!" she cried, shielding her face as another blow came down.
And then—
"Stop it!" a voice screamed.
A blur shot between them.
Louis.
Her little brother, barely thirteen, trembling but determined, picked up a wooden stick from the firewood pile and swung it—hard. It cracked against their father's side.
The man staggered. Collapsed.
The silence afterward was deafening.
Luna gasped, stumbling toward Louis. He was shaking, eyes wide with horror.
"Did I—did I kill him?" he cried. "I didn't mean to! I just—he was hurting you—I didn't—"
"No, no, Louis, listen to me," Luna said quickly, checking their father's pulse. "He's alive. Still breathing. You didn't kill him. You protected me. You saved me."
Their mother burst out of the house, face pale, eyes wide. "What happened? What have you done?"
"He was going to kill her!" Louis sobbed. "I didn't know what else to do—"
She dropped to her knees beside them, pulling both children into her arms, rocking them like they were little again.
"We have to go," she whispered. "Now. You two… you need to leave. My sister in Agauzu—she'll help. Luna, you always wanted to go back to school. You can start over. You deserve better than this. If he wakes up, he'll kill you. This time, he really might."
"No," Luna said fiercely, her voice raw. "Not without you. I'm not leaving you behind."
Her mother's lips trembled. "Luna…"
"We go together, Mama. All three of us. Or not at all."
The three of them looked at each other, tears blurring their faces, hearts hammering in unison. Then—movement. Their father groaned on the ground, his body twitching.
"He's waking up," Luna whispered.
"Go. Inside. Pack now," their mother ordered.
They moved in silence, grabbing clothes, small bundles, the few precious things they had left. They didn't need much—just enough to get away.
Minutes later, they stood at the edge of the road, catching the last bus heading to Agauzu. The town they had only heard about. The city that promised everything—and nothing.
As the bus pulled away, Louis jumped slightly at the sight of a passing police car, his hand gripping his sister's tightly.
"It's not after us," she whispered. "We're okay."
They sat side by side, Luna's arm around Louis, their mother resting quietly across from them, staring out the window with red-rimmed eyes.
None of them looked back.
They didn't need to.
Whatever waited in Agauzu was unknown, but it had to be better than what they had left behind.
And as the city lights appeared on the horizon, Luna felt it for the first time in her chest:
The sharp, terrifying breath of freedom.