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faerouzia · 1 day ago

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❀𝑃𝑎𝑝𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑛❀

𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒂 𝑷𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒊

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐺𝑜𝑑𝑠𝑜𝑛!𝑠𝑎𝑛 𝑥 𝑓𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑒𝑟!𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 (san is just...wow), ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑑𝑟𝑢𝑔𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡, ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘

𝑂𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑤: 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑙𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑠ℎ 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑖𝑟, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒’𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑦𝑒. 𝐵𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑑𝑦𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑐 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠, 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑘, 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑛𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑙 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝐴𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑑𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑑𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑎𝑓𝑖𝑎 ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑖𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑛 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑠; 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑙𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠.

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 8.7𝐾

You stood in the kitchen doorway of your family’s farmhouse, nestled in the heart of Tuscany, arms crossed as you watched the chaotic bustle of your household unfold around you. The scent of fresh earth mingled with the sweet aroma of ripe pomegranates, filling the air with a promise of abundance. It was a fragrant tapestry woven from the land itself, each breath a reminder of the life that thrived around you. Voices rose and fell in a hurried symphony, punctuated by the clatter of dishes and the rustle of leaves from the sprawling orchard that surrounded your home. Today was no ordinary day—the farm was preparing to welcome a group of big investors, hoping to transform your humble pomegranate grove into a thriving enterprise.

Your mother darted past, a basket overflowing with freshly picked pomegranates in hand, her movements a blur of determination and grace. “Make sure those branches don’t look like they’ve been through a wrestling match!” she shouted, her voice a mix of urgency and exasperation, slicing through the air like a knife. Outside, the workers trimmed branches heavy with fruit, their laughter mingling with the rustling leaves, creating a lively backdrop to the day’s events. In the living room, your younger siblings scrambled to clear dust from old furniture, their laughter a frantic attempt to mask their nerves. Somewhere in the distance, a rooster crowed, as if to announce the significance of the moment, its call echoing through the sun-drenched fields.

And like always, Nonna Elina sat in her well-worn chair, a bastion of calm amidst the storm of activity. Her eyes, crinkled with age and wisdom, sparkled with the stories of countless seasons she had witnessed. You stared at her for a moment, the world around you fading into a gentle hum, her presence a soothing balm to your racing heart. She looked so peaceful, a serene island in the tempest of preparations. But before you could bask any further in your admiration, a loud crash shattered the calm, sending a jolt through your heart.

“Y/N! Please put him in a cage or something!” your mother shouted, her voice rising above the chaos. Ay yah yai, of all the days for him to create a fuss in the house! Paco, your mischievous baby goat, was full of energy and mischief, and today he had decided to unleash his inner tornado.

As you threaded into the kitchen, your white floral dress flowed around you like a summer breeze, the fabric catching the light and swirling with your movements. Your luscious hair cascaded over your shoulders, framing your face as you focused on the task at hand. You gently reached out to catch Paco, who was currently attempting to scale the kitchen table, his tiny hooves dancing on the surface like a clumsy ballerina. “Ay papito, not today, please!” you whined, exasperation lacing your voice as you lunged for him.

Paco, however, was a master of escape. With a cheeky bleat, he darted away, zigzagging through the kitchen like a furry little rocket. You chased after him, laughter bubbling up despite the chaos. “Come back here, you little rascal!” you called, your heart racing as you tried to corner him. He darted behind the refrigerator, then under the table, his antics turning the kitchen into a scene from a slapstick comedy.

The laughter of your siblings filled the air, a chorus of joy that mingled with the frantic energy of the moment. You could feel the warmth of the sun streaming through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air, and for a fleeting moment, everything felt perfect. The chaos of the day faded into the background as you focused solely on the little goat that had stolen your heart.

Finally, with a burst of determination, you managed to corner Paco near the pantry. You scooped him up, cradling his squirming body against your chest. “Got you!” you exclaimed triumphantly, your laughter ringing out like music. He bleated in protest, but you couldn’t help but smile at his antics.

As you held him close, the world around you felt alive with possibility. The farm was more than just a place; it was a tapestry of memories, laughter, and love. You could feel the weight of the day’s significance pressing down on you, but in this moment, with Paco nestled in your arms and the warmth of your family surrounding you, you knew that no matter what changes lay ahead, this was where you belonged.

With a final glance at Nonna, who watched with a knowing smile, you felt a surge of gratitude for the life you had. The day may have been chaotic, but it was also filled with love, laughter, and the promise of new beginnings. And as you prepared to face whatever challenges awaited, you knew that you would do so with the strength of your family behind you, ready to embrace whatever the future held.

“Y/N! Look at this mess!” your mother exclaimed, her hands firmly planted on her hips, her eyes wide with disbelief as she surveyed the chaos that had erupted in the kitchen. The scene was a whirlwind of activity, and the sight of Paco, your mischievous baby goat, only added to the pandemonium. “We have investors coming, and you’re letting a goat run wild in the kitchen!”

Nonna Elina, perched comfortably in her well-worn chair, watched the spectacle unfold with a twinkle in her eye. She couldn’t help but giggle, her laughter a soft, melodic reminder of her age and wisdom. “È un buon segno,” she said, her voice bubbling over like a fine wine, rich and full of warmth. “It means... it’s a good sign.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, as if she knew that the chaos was just a part of the day’s charm, a delightful prelude to the unfolding drama.

You shot her a playful glare, but the corners of your mouth twitched upward despite the chaos. “A good sign? Nonna, I think you might be the only one who believes that right now!�� The absurdity of the situation was not lost on you, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of camaraderie with your grandmother, who always seemed to find joy in the little things.

Just then, Paco made a daring leap onto the kitchen counter, his tiny hooves skittering across the surface like a clumsy dancer. In an instant, a bowl of freshly picked pomegranates tumbled to the floor, the fruits rolling in every direction and creating a vibrant red carpet of chaos. You gasped, half-laughing, half-sighing, as you dove to catch him before he could make a break for it again. “Paco! You little troublemaker!”

With a final burst of energy, you managed to scoop him up just as he prepared for another escape. Cradling him in your arms, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you murmured, giving him a gentle scratch behind the ears. His soft fur felt warm against your skin, and for a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just you and your little companion in a bubble of laughter and love.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and your youngest sibling bounded in, cheeks flushed and eyes wide with excitement. “Momma, they’re here! The investors, they’re here!” The words tumbled out in a breathless rush, almost tripping over themselves in their hurry.

The urgency in your sibling’s voice snapped you back to reality, and you felt a rush of adrenaline course through you. The day had finally arrived, the moment your family had been preparing for, and the stakes felt higher than ever. You exchanged a quick glance with your mother, who was now a whirlwind of focus, her earlier frustration replaced by a determined energy.

“Alright, everyone! Let’s get this place in order!” she commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos like a clarion call. The kitchen transformed in an instant, your siblings scrambling to gather the scattered pomegranates while you held Paco tightly, trying to keep him from causing any more mischief.

As you watched the flurry of activity, you felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. This was your family’s chance to showcase the beauty of the farm, to share the fruits of their labor with the world. You wanted everything to be perfect, to show the investors the heart and soul that went into every pomegranate, every inch of land.

With a final glance at Nonna, who offered you an encouraging smile, you felt a surge of determination. You would do everything in your power to help your family succeed. As the sounds of laughter and hurried footsteps filled the air, you knew that no matter what happened today, you were ready to embrace the chaos and the joy that came with it.

Outside, the atmosphere shifted dramatically as a sleek black Rolls-Royce glided down the gravel driveway, its polished surface reflecting the golden Tuscan sunlight and the orchard’s lush greenery. The car seemed to glide effortlessly, an embodiment of elegance and sophistication, while the engine purred softly, announcing the arrival of the esteemed guests with an air of luxurious power and quiet command.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stood there holding Paco tight—his tiny hooves kneading softly against your chest, a comforting rhythm amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. Excitement danced in your veins, but it was quickly overshadowed by a creeping anxiety and an undercurrent of dread you couldn’t quite place. Your mother’s eyes flickered with a hidden panic as she muttered under her breath, “Put him away. Now.”

The urgency in her voice snapped you back to reality. She smoothed the front of her blouse, plastering on a warm, welcoming smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, a mask of composure that belied the chaos of the last hour. Adjusting a stray curl behind her ear, she took a steadying breath, preparing to greet the investors as if the last hour of domestic turmoil belonged to someone else entirely.

In that moment, as the car’s tires crunched along the driveway stones and your family braced itself for what was to come, you realized this day held far more than just promises of growth. It held the delicate balance between hope and upheaval—and the first step into a story that would change everything.

With a sense of urgency, you scurried away to hide Paco in your room, cradling him gently as you made your way up the staircase. Each step felt heavy with the weight of expectation, and you could hear the muffled sounds of your family preparing below. You tucked him into his little bed, a cozy nest made from the soft fleece that Nonna Elina had lovingly crafted for you on your sixteenth birthday. The familiar scent of lavender and warmth enveloped you, a comforting reminder of simpler times, of laughter and love shared in the quiet moments.

As you took in the atmosphere of your room, the golden rays of the sun streamed through the window, glistening against your cream sheets and casting a warm glow that made everything feel ethereal. It was a sanctuary, a place where the chaos of the world below faded into a distant hum. You closed your eyes for a moment, allowing the tranquility to wash over you, but the peace was short-lived.

A soft knock on the door broke the spell, and your aunt’s voice called from the other side, sharp and insistent. “Y/N, you’re expected to greet the guests! Hurry up!”

You opened the door to find her standing there, hands on her hips, a look of mild exasperation etched across her face. “What are you wearing? You can’t greet important guests in a floral dress and bare feet!”

You groaned, running a hand through your loose curls of off-brown hair, feeling the weight of her expectations. “Auntie, I have nothing else to wear! This is perfectly fine!”

“Just hush and put on some shoes and tie your hair back,” she insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument. The urgency in her voice was palpable, and you could sense the importance of the moment pressing down on you.

With a resigned sigh, you complied, slipping on a pair of simple sandals that felt foreign against your bare skin. You gathered your hair into a loose bun, a few rebellious curls escaping to frame your face, softening the look of urgency that had settled over you. You took one last look in the mirror, hoping you didn’t look too disheveled, and headed back downstairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under your feet, each sound echoing the anticipation that hung in the air.

As you descended, the atmosphere shifted again, the sounds of your family’s preparations blending into a symphony of excitement and nerves. You could feel the energy crackling around you, a palpable tension that hinted at the significance of the day. With each step, you steeled yourself for the encounter ahead, ready to embrace whatever challenges lay in store. Today was not just about the investors; it was about your family’s future, and you were determined to play your part.

And then, your eyes met a gentleman standing in the living room, and you felt a jolt of surprise. He was about five feet tall, with an emerald ring glinting on his pinky finger, dressed in a sharp grey pinstriped suit that seemed to exude confidence and sophistication. Beside him stood a man much taller, his striking looks commanding attention with an effortless charm that made your heart skip a beat. You stared a moment too long, captivated by the way he carried himself, the confidence radiating from him like a beacon, drawing you in with an almost magnetic pull.

Just as you were lost in thought, your mother’s voice snapped you back to reality. “And this is my eldest, Y/N! Come meet the Choi's; I hope I’m saying it correctly.” The way she introduced you felt like a spotlight shining down, illuminating the moment with a mix of pride and urgency.

The older man giggled, a light, melodic sound that seemed to ease the tension in the room, and nodded in acknowledgment. You felt your cheeks flush as you stepped forward, your heart racing as you extended your hand, trying to mask the flutter of nerves that danced in your stomach. “A pleasure to meet you,” you managed to say, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

The taller man’s gaze met yours, and for a brief moment, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of unspoken connection. “Likewise,” he replied, his voice smooth and warm, sending a shiver down your spine. It was as if time had slowed, and you could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you, a sense of destiny hanging in the air.

As the introductions continued, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this day was about to change everything—not just for the farm, but for you as well. The air was thick with anticipation, and you could sense the significance of the occasion, the potential for new beginnings and unforeseen paths.

The dinner table was a feast for the senses, beautifully set with a rustic charm that reflected the heart of Tuscany. A large bowl of glistening olives sat at the center, surrounded by platters of honey-roasted chicken, golden and succulent, and fluffy baked butter rolls that seemed to melt in your mouth. And, of course, there was Papa's famous home-brewed wine from Milan, its rich aroma wafting through the air, promising warmth and cheer, a comforting embrace amidst the formalities.

As everyone settled into their seats, the atmosphere buzzed with a mix of excitement and nervous energy. Your mother and Mr. Choi, the older gentleman, engaged in a lively conversation about the farm's revenue and turnover, their voices rising and falling like a well-rehearsed duet. You listened half-heartedly, your attention drifting to the delicious spread before you, the vibrant colors and enticing scents beckoning you to indulge.

With a carefree spirit, you dug into your plate, your fork clattering against the china as you piled food onto it, completely oblivious to the formalities around you. You were messy as always, a fact that had become a running joke in your family, and you couldn’t help but revel in the joy of the moment, the flavors dancing on your tongue.

Suddenly, you felt a gentle nudge at your side. It was your aunt, her voice a soft whisper. “Manners, he’s looking,” she muttered, her eyes darting toward the table across from you.

“Who?” you questioned, your mouth full of fluffy roll and chicken, flour dusting your lips like a careless baker. You were blissfully unaware of the impression you were making.

Your aunt side-eyed you, pointing discreetly at the figure who was indeed staring at you, a bemused expression on his face as he took a bite of his chicken. The moment your eyes met, embarrassment flooded through you like a tidal wave, and you nervously pulled your gaze away, hastily wiping your mouth with the tablecloth. In your haste, you missed a spot near the crook of your lip, leaving a smudge of flour that only added to your mortification.

He snickered softly, the sound light and teasing, and you shot him a glare, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “What’s so funny?” you muttered under your breath, trying to regain your composure, but the warmth of your cheeks betrayed you.

He simply pointed at the corner of his lips, a playful grin spreading across his face, indicating that you still had flour lingering there. Your heart raced as you realized he was enjoying your clumsiness, and you felt a mix of irritation and amusement bubbling within you. You grabbed a napkin and dabbed at your mouth, trying to wipe away the evidence of your earlier indiscretion, but the moment felt like a dance of awkwardness and charm.

As the conversation continued around the table, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He was charming in a way that made it hard to focus on anything else, his laughter infectious and his presence magnetic. You found yourself drawn to the way he engaged with everyone, his easy confidence making the atmosphere feel lighter, as if he had the power to turn the mundane into something extraordinary.

With each shared laugh and stolen glance, you felt the tension of the day begin to melt away, replaced by a sense of possibility. This dinner was not just a meeting of minds; it was a moment that could alter the course of your life, and you were ready to embrace whatever came next.

Mr. Choi leaned forward, his expression serious yet curious. “So, how much would you like for the farm? Name your price.”

Your attention was immediately steered away from the lively conversation, your heart racing at his question. What did he mean, how much do we want? You thought, your eyes widening slightly as you awaited Mama’s response. The room seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation, as if the very walls were straining to hear the answer.

Mama hesitated for a moment, her composure wavering as she weighed her words. Finally, she uttered, “Eight million.”

Your heart dropped at her response. Selling the farm? “Mama!” you whined, unable to contain your shock, the words spilling out before you could think.

“Y/N, not now,” she snapped, her glare sharp enough to silence you. “Por favor.”

You sank back into your seat, aching under the weight of her command. Por favor—the words held a weight of grace and favor, but in this house, they carried something deeper, a demand for respect that you couldn’t ignore. The tension in the room thickened, and as they continued discussing plans for the farm, your mind raced with the implications of your mother’s words.

A rustle from upstairs broke through your thoughts, and you exchanged a glance with your aunt, who looked equally concerned. She mouthed, “Did you lock the door?”

You frowned, uncertainty washing over you. Did you? Just then, the door upstairs creaked open, and you heard light footsteps treading gently against the wooden floor. “Paco,” you whispered, your heart pounding as you realized he must have escaped his cozy bed.

Abruptly, you stood up, excusing yourself from the table, nearly knocking over your wine glass in the process. You hurried upstairs into your room, but the sight that greeted you was chaotic: the sheets were ruffled, the cushions a chewed-up disaster, but the culprit was nowhere to be found. “Paco!” you called, searching all the rooms, but he was nowhere to be found. Panic began to bubble within you as you made your way back downstairs, your heart racing with anxiety.

As you returned to the dinner table, you noticed Nonna Elina sitting in her chair, peacefully asleep, her gentle snores a stark contrast to the tension in the room. You sat back down, trying to focus on the conversation, but your mind was still racing with thoughts of your mother selling the farm and Paco’s whereabouts.

You continued to eat your food, making a conscious effort to be graceful this time, but suddenly, you felt something furry brushing against your feet. You looked down, startled, and there was Paco, his little body nuzzling against your ankle, his eyes wide and innocent.

You reached down under the table, your heart racing as you spotted Paco’s little form peeking out from the edge of the tablecloth. “Come here, Paco,” you whispered, waving an olive to lure him toward you. But instead of coming to you, he had other plans. He moved closer to the young gentleman’s feet, and your stomach dropped.

“No, no, no, Paco, hey!” you hissed, watching in horror as he sniffed at the gentleman's shoes, which looked expensive—very expensive. The perfect lunch for a mischievous goat.

Paco’s nose wiggled, and you recognized that expression all too well: the rectangular pupils widening, the telltale sign that he was about to make a very bad decision. “Paco, no!” you pleaded, but it was too late.

“Maa!” he bleated, and the table rustled in shock. Your mother’s voice cut through the chaos, stern yet raised in alarm. “Y/N!”

In a panic, you dove deeper under the table, trying to catch him before he could cause any more trouble, but he was too fast. With a leap, he jumped up into the young gentleman's lap, and without thinking, you followed suit, your head now awkwardly positioned right between his legs.

“Paco!” you exclaimed, reaching out to grab hold of him, but the moment was chaotic. The gentleman looked down at you, surprise etched across his handsome features, while you felt the heat of embarrassment flood your cheeks.

“Y/N Isabella Pesci!” Mama exclaimed, her voice a mix of disbelief and frustration.

You froze for a moment, caught in the act, your heart racing as you tried to process the scene. Here you were, sprawled under the table, with a goat in the lap of a very important guest. As you cradled Paco in your arms, the tension and sighs around the table began to settle, and Mama regained her composure, her expression shifting from shock to disappointment. Mr. Choi, amused by the scene before him, chuckled softly, but Mama’s eyes were sharp, glinting with a fierce intensity that made your stomach drop.

“Take him outside. Now,” she commanded, her hand grasping the fork tightly, her glare piercing into your soul.

You nodded, your expression falling as you reluctantly crawled back under the table, clutching Paco tightly. You stood up, feeling the weight of the moment as you made your way toward the doorway that led to the staircase. Before stepping out, you turned back, bowing slightly in apology to the guests. “Sorry, Mama,” you murmured, but she didn’t even acknowledge your words, her focus already back on Mr. Choi.

“Where were we?” she continued, her voice smooth and professional, as if the earlier chaos had never happened. The contrast between her composed demeanor and the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you felt surreal, and as you stepped outside, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this day was only the beginning of something much larger than yourself.

With a heavy heart, you stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapping around you like a gentle embrace. The sunset deepened into the sky, painting it in hues of orange and pink, a breathtaking canvas that seemed to reflect the turmoil within you. The wind blew softly, cradling your skin like a frozen kiss, a stark contrast to the warmth of the chaos you had just left behind. You ventured deeper into the farm, holding Paco close, his little body warm against you, a comforting presence amidst the uncertainty.

As you walked, you couldn’t shake the feeling of embarrassment from the dinner table. The laughter and conversation continued to echo from the house, but you felt a sense of isolation creeping in, a reminder that you were caught between two worlds—the one you cherished and the one that seemed to be slipping away.

“Mrs. Pesci, would you mind if I take a look at the farm?” the gentleman had asked politely, his tone respectful yet curious. Mr. Choi, surprised at his godson’s words, chuckled. “San, it’s getting darker. How would you be able to see?”

San shrugged, a playful smile on his lips. “It’s okay. I just want to see how it looks since we’re buying it from the Pesci’s.”

You could almost feel the weight of those words hanging in the air, a promise that felt both exciting and terrifying.

“I’ll accompany you,” your aunt offered, stepping forward, but San politely declined.

“No, thank you. I’d like some alone time to make up my mind,” he said, his gaze drifting toward the fields, a hint of determination in his eyes.

San stepped out of the house, his suit still impeccably intact, though a few strands of Paco’s fur clung to the fabric, a testament to the little goat’s mischief. He walked deeper into the farm, taking in the breathtaking scene before him, and you couldn’t help but watch from a distance, curiosity mingling with your unease.

The landscape unfolded like a living tapestry, where trees of varying sizes stood proudly, each one a guardian of the land. Some were tall and majestic, their branches stretching wide, adorned with clusters of vibrant pomegranate blossoms that danced in the gentle breeze. Others were smaller, their delicate limbs cradling the bright, ruby-red fruits that hung like jewels, glistening in the fading light. The air was fragrant with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, a heady perfume that mingled with the earthy aroma of the soil beneath your feet, grounding you in the moment.

As San strolled, he glanced up at the sky, where the cold winds heightened, sending subtle chills against his cheek. The clouds were painted in soft pastels, a canvas of pinks and purples that blended seamlessly into the deepening blue of twilight. It was a sight to behold, a moment suspended in time, where nature’s beauty unfolded in all its glory, and you felt a pang of longing for the simplicity of it all.

Placing his hands in his pockets, he continued to walk further into the farm, the rows of plantations sectioned precisely, each one a testament to the care and dedication of the Pesci family. The neat lines of greenery stretched out before him, a symphony of life that whispered stories of hard work and love. You could see the pride in the way the land was tended, the love that had been poured into every inch of soil, and it made your heart ache with the thought of losing it.

As you stood there, holding Paco close, you felt a mix of emotions swirling within you—fear of the unknown, sadness for what might be lost, and a flicker of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, this day could lead to something new and beautiful. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the farm, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to dream of a future where the Pesci legacy could continue, where the laughter and love that filled this place would never fade away.

With a deep breath, you stepped forward, ready to face whatever came next, determined to protect the heart of your family and the land that had shaped you.

As he ventured deeper, a barn came into view in the distance, its rustic charm beckoning him closer. Warm lights gleamed from the circular window at the top, casting a golden glow that contrasted beautifully with the encroaching dusk. The barn stood as a beacon of warmth and comfort, a place where memories were made and laughter echoed through the years, a sanctuary that seemed to hold the very essence of the farm within its walls.

San felt a sense of peace wash over him as he approached the barn, the gentle sounds of the farm enveloping him like a familiar embrace. The soft rustle of leaves, the distant clucking of chickens, and the gentle whinny of a horse created a symphony of life that resonated deep within him. It was a place rich with history, and he couldn’t help but feel a connection to it, as if the land itself was inviting him to become a part of its story, to weave his own narrative into the tapestry of the Pesci legacy.

With each step, he felt the weight of the decision ahead of him, but in that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the farm, he knew he was exactly where he was meant to be. The barn door creaked open as he stepped inside, the familiar scent of hay and earth enveloping him like a warm embrace, wrapping him in a cocoon of nostalgia. His eyes roamed the surroundings, taking in the rustic charm of the space. A rooster perched atop a wooden stool, its proud stance a reminder of the farm's vibrant life, while nearby, a pot bubbled on a stove, steam rising into the air, the aroma of boiling pasta wafting through the barn, mingling with the earthy scents and creating a comforting atmosphere.

Various pottery pieces adorned the shelves, painted in turquoise and red sequences, their colors bright and inviting, reminiscent of the joyful chaos of family gatherings. A smile crept across his face, the scene reminiscent of his mother’s kitchen, filled with love and laughter, and he felt a pang of longing for the warmth of home.

As he wandered further, a soft sound caught his attention—quiet sobs emanating from a door slightly ajar. Curiosity piqued, he approached the door and gently pushed it open. What he saw made his heart ache. You were seated on the floor, cradling your head in your arms on the bed, tears streaming down your cheeks. Paco sat atop the bed, his little head resting on yours, offering comfort in his own way, a small guardian in your moment of vulnerability.

“Are you alright?” San asked softly, stepping into the room, his voice a gentle balm against the heaviness in the air.

You turned your head to face him, your face painted with a salty river of tears, eyes red and swollen from the embarrassment and the weight of the moment. “What are you doing here? How did you find this place?” you asked, your voice strained and lacking composure as you quivered, the vulnerability of the moment washing over you like a tide.

“I stepped out to see the farm, and I saw this place, so…” he trailed off, the unspoken words hanging in the air between you, a bridge of understanding forming in the silence.

A silent staring competition emerged, his expression soft yet hinting at something deeper beneath the surface, a connection that felt both fragile and profound. Just then, Paco bleated, snapping you both out of your trance, his little voice a reminder of the present.

You stood up, your bun slightly loose and your bare feet cold against the wooden floor, grounding you in the moment. “It’s getting late; you should probably go back, Mr…?”

“San. San Choi,” he replied, reaching his hand out to shake yours, his touch warm and reassuring.

You took his hand, but the shake turned into something more. He gently lifted your hand, turning it so your knuckles faced up, and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly and respectfully. The gesture sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of surprise and warmth flooding through you, igniting a spark of something you hadn’t expected.

“To learn more about the farm, that is,” he continued, his tone light and teasing, and a sigh of relief washed over you at his save. You couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension easing as you realized he had picked up on your train of thought, his playful demeanor disarming your earlier embarrassment. He laughed along with you, and Paco bleated, as if joining in on the moment, his little presence adding to the warmth of the exchange.

In that instant, the weight of the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared laughter and understanding. The barn, with its rustic charm and the scent of home, felt like a sanctuary, a place where connections were forged and memories were made. And as you stood there, surrounded by the warmth of the moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the beginning of something beautiful, a new chapter in the story of your life and the farm you held so dear.

“Would you like some pasta?” you asked, trying to shift the focus back to something lighthearted, hoping to dispel the tension that hung in the air like a thick fog.

He shook his head politely. “No, thank you. I’ve already eaten.”

You nodded, feeling a bit shy but grateful for the moment of levity. “It’s my mother’s recipe. She makes the best pasta,” you said, a hint of pride creeping into your voice. “It’s one of the few things I can’t mess up.”

San chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I can imagine. It must be a family secret.”

“Definitely,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you. “It’s one of the things that makes this place feel like home.”

You settled by the small wooden table, Paco nestled comfortably in your lap, his soft body providing a sense of warmth and comfort. In front of you sat a large bowl of pasta adorned with vibrant tomato cherries, their sweetness promising a delightful meal. As you and San began to talk, the atmosphere felt relaxed and inviting, the earlier tension dissipating like the fading light outside.

“So, what do you do for a living?” you asked, curiosity bubbling up as you twirled a forkful of pasta, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

San hesitated for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “Well, I come from old money,” he replied, his tone casual but guarded. “After my family passed away, my great uncle took care of me. He made me his godson.”

You nodded, intrigued but sensing there was more to the story. “That’s interesting. It must have been a big change for you.”

“It was,” he said, his gaze drifting for a moment, as if lost in memories that were too heavy to bear. “But it’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Trust me, you don’t want that kind of family. It’s all too troublesome.”

“What do you mean by that?” you asked, leaning in, genuinely curious, your heart racing as you sensed the weight of his words.

He hesitated, his expression thoughtful, the shadows of his past flickering across his features. “Let’s just say… expectations are through the roof,” he finally answered, a hint of frustration lacing his words, and you could feel the tension in the air thickening.

Minutes passed as the conversation flowed, the warmth of the wine making your cheeks flush, but neither of you felt drunk or tipsy. It was a comfortable buzz, one that encouraged openness, yet the underlying tension remained, a silent current that pulled at the edges of your thoughts.

“Have you been on the farm all your life?” San asked, his eyes sparkling with interest, and you felt a flicker of hope that this conversation could lead somewhere deeper.

You smiled, brushing your fingers through Paco’s coat, feeling the soft snores blowing gently against your dress. “I moved here from Milan when I was 15. Business was fast for Papa, but Mama didn’t want to live there anymore. She said it was too noisy and crowded.”

“And how did you feel about it?” he asked, his tone sincere, and that question warmed you. It was an emotion unfamiliar; no one had ever asked how you felt about something so personal.

“I didn’t want to leave,” you admitted, your voice softening, the vulnerability of your past spilling out. “I liked the noise as much as I love it here. But Milan has life, no?”

San nodded, his expression understanding, but you could see the flicker of something deeper in his eyes, a shared understanding of loss and longing. “It sounds like you have a deep connection to both places.”

“I do,” you replied, feeling a sense of relief in sharing your thoughts. “Milan was vibrant, full of energy. I loved the hustle and bustle, the art, the people. But here, it’s peaceful. It’s like the world slows down, and I can breathe.”

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. “It’s nice to have both, I suppose. A balance.”

“Exactly,” you said, feeling a sense of camaraderie with him. “But sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice. What if I missed out on something amazing in Milan?”

San leaned back slightly, contemplating your words, the weight of his own experiences reflected in his gaze. “Life is full of choices, and sometimes we don’t know what we’re missing until it’s too late. But it sounds like you’ve found something special here.”

You met his gaze, feeling a connection that went beyond the surface, a shared understanding of the complexities of life. “I have. This farm is my heart, even if it can be chaotic at times.”

“Chaos can be beautiful,” he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, but the tension in the air was palpable, a reminder of the storm brewing just beneath the surface. “Just like this moment.”

You both shared a quiet laugh, the bond between you deepening as the evening wore on. In that small barn, with Paco nestled in your lap and the warmth of the pasta filling the air, you felt a sense of belonging that you hadn’t realized you were missing.

San took a deep breath, his expression shifting to one of sincerity, the atmosphere thickening with unspoken words. “I’m sorry you had to find out about it like that,” he began, his voice gentle, but the weight of his words hung heavily between you.

You looked up, your eyes furrowing in confusion. “What do you—”

“Oh, about Mama selling the farm?” you interrupted, the realization hitting you like a wave, crashing over your senses. “Well, it is a shock to me. It’s just that this doesn’t happen overnight, no? It’s something you plan thoroughly, and in due time, you make a decision, but…”

“But what?” San prompted, leaning in slightly, his interest piqued, and you could feel the tension tightening around you like a noose.

“It hurt how she did not bother to tell me,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly, the vulnerability of your emotions spilling out. “It’s not like I am 18. I’m 25, so my opinion should matter, no?”

He nodded at your words, taking in the weight of how you must have felt and how you were still feeling. “It makes sense. You’re an adult, and you deserve to be part of those conversations, especially about something as significant as the family farm.”

You sighed, the frustration bubbling to the surface, a storm of emotions threatening to spill over. “I just wish she would have included me. I’ve always been here, helping out, loving this place. It feels like she’s making a decision that affects my life without even considering how I feel about it.”

San’s expression softened as he took your words in, the absorption striking a feeling so relatable within him. He sighed before taking a sip of his wine, the tension between you thickening, a shared understanding of the weight of family expectations hanging in the air. “Well, that makes two of us,” he said, his voice laced with understanding, and in that moment, you felt the walls around your heart begin to crack, the connection between you deepening as the night wore on.

The barn, once a sanctuary, now felt like a crucible, the heat of your emotions swirling around you, and you knew that this conversation was just the beginning of something that could change everything.

Just then, he checked the time on his watch, and at that moment, the sound of footsteps treading towards the barn caught his attention. The door swung open, revealing your aunt, her expression shifting from surprise to concern.

“There you two are—what is this? Y/N, you cannot be caught in such comfort with a… stranger,” she exclaimed, her eyes darting between you and San, a hint of alarm coloring her tone. “I apologize if I offended, Mr. Choi.”

“Aunt, it’s not—” you started, but San interjected smoothly.

“Not at all. I was just about to leave anyway. She told me a lot about the farm,” he said, gathering his suit jacket in his arms, the fine black cloth sueding against his forearm, and you felt a pang of regret at the thought of him leaving.

“It was nice meeting you. All have a good night,” he added, offering a polite smile that made your heart flutter.

“Ciao,” you waved rapidly, feeling a mix of emotions as he turned to leave. Paco bleated in farewell, and then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.

The barn felt emptier without him, and you turned to your aunt, who was watching San’s backside as he strode away. “He’s handsome,” she commented, a teasing lilt in her voice, and you felt your cheeks flush.

“Aunty, not again,” you groaned, rolling your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite your protest.

“I’m just saying! I don’t want a husband, but for him, I can make arrangements,” she muttered with a smug grin on her face, and you couldn’t help but laugh, the lightness of the moment lingering for just a heartbeat longer.

But then, the comfort within the atmosphere shifted as your aunt’s expression turned serious. “She signed the deal.”

Your heart sank, and your expression crashed, leaving no emotion in sight—just a blank stare as the weight of her words settled over you like a heavy fog. “What?” you managed to whisper, the reality of the situation crashing down around you like a tidal wave.

“We leave tomorrow,” she said, her voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of concern that sent a chill down your spine.

The words echoed in your mind, and you felt a wave of panic wash over you. “Tomorrow? Just like that?”

Your aunt nodded, her gaze softening as she took a step closer, the tension in the air thickening. “I know it’s sudden, but your mother believes this is the best decision for us. She thinks it will be a fresh start.”

“A fresh start?” you repeated, incredulous, your voice rising with disbelief. “What about the farm? What about everything we’ve built here?”

“I understand, Y/N. I really do,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm. “But sometimes, we have to let go of the past to embrace the future. Your mother thinks this is what’s best for us.”

You shook your head, feeling a mix of anger and despair bubbling to the surface. “But I don’t want to leave! Not again! This is my home! I can’t just pack up and go without a say in it!”

“I know it’s hard,” your aunt replied, her eyes filled with empathy, but the weight of her words felt like a stone in your chest. “But you have to talk to your mother. Express how you feel. Maybe she’ll listen.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of your emotions threatening to spill over. “I don’t even know if she’ll care what I think.”

Your aunt smirked, her expression lightening the mood just a fraction. “You’re right. Knowing my sister, she listens to nobody—not even Nonna.”

Hearing those words brought a smile to your face, and a memory flickered to life in your mind. You recalled the time Nonna had advised your mother to choose a dress that suited her skin tone, but because her favorite color was yellow, she stubbornly stuck with the one she had chosen. As she walked out the door, a bird had pooped on it, and Nonna had laughed heartily, saying, “I told you it was bad luck!”

You chuckled at the memory, the warmth of nostalgia washing over you. “I remember that! Mama was so upset, but Nonna just couldn’t stop laughing. It was like she knew it would happen.”

Your aunt joined in your laughter, the sound echoing in the barn, but the joy felt fragile, like a bubble that could burst at any moment. “That’s Nonna for you. Always had a way of making a point, even if it meant a little misfortune.”

The lightness of the moment helped ease the weight of your earlier worries, but the reality of the impending move loomed over you like a dark cloud. “It’s funny how stubborn she can be, though. Sometimes I wonder if I inherited that trait.”

“Definitely,” your aunt replied, a teasing glint in her eyes, but the tension in the air was palpable. “You’re just as headstrong as your mother. But that’s not a bad thing. It means you know what you want.”

You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination surge within you. “I just need to find a way to make her see my side. I want her to understand how much this place means to me.”

“Exactly,” your aunt encouraged, her voice warm but firm. “And if she doesn’t listen, we’ll find a way to make her hear you. You’re not alone in this.”

As you stood there, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of the barn, you felt a flicker of hope ignite within you, but it was overshadowed by the fear of losing everything you held dear. The bond you shared with your aunt, the memories of Nonna, and the laughter you had just shared reminded you that family was about more than just blood—it was about support, love, and understanding.

Your aunt glanced at you, a playful smile on her face, but the gravity of the situation hung heavily in the air. “So, are you going to sleep in the house tonight?”

You shook your head, a sense of comfort washing over you as you replied, “No, I think I’ll sleep in the barn for the night.”

She peered her head out the window, her eyes sparkling with mischief, but the tension still lingered. “Alright, but I’ll wake you up in the morning so we can start packing before she bites your head off.”

You nodded, grateful for her support, but the thought of facing your mother filled you with dread. “Okay.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” she said, her voice warm and reassuring, but the uncertainty of the future loomed like a shadow.

“Goodnight,” you replied, feeling a sense of peace settle over you, but it was fragile, like a flickering candle in the wind.

As your aunt turned to leave, Paco bleated once again, the sound echoing in the quiet barn, a reminder of the comfort he provided. “That goat needs Jesus,” your aunt joked, shaking her head, but the humor felt distant.

Just then, Paco charged towards her, and she squealed, running out of the barn while stealing the bottle of wine from the table. You laughed uncontrollably at the scene, the sound of joy filling the air, but it felt like a temporary reprieve from the storm brewing inside you. Paco bleated one more time as she left, “Maa!” which you interpreted as a cheeky jab at her.

Your aunt screamed back, “Fuck you!” while holding a middle finger up at him, and you couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. Paco huffed, hefting his horns in her direction as she ran away, and once she was out of sight, he returned to your side, settling down comfortably.

With the barn now quiet, you prepared for bed, laying down on the soft hay with Paco nestled beside you. The rooster was probably outside on the porch, not in the oven—just jokes, of course! The familiar sounds of the barn surrounded you, the gentle rustling of hay and the soft snorts of Paco providing a soothing backdrop, but the weight of the day pressed heavily on your chest.

As you lay there, your thoughts began to drift. The events of the day replayed in your mind—the conversation with San, the laughter with your aunt, and the weight of the impending move. You felt a mix of anxiety and determination swirling within you. Would your mother truly listen? Would she understand how much this place meant to you?

The barn felt like a sanctuary, a place where you could gather your thoughts and reflect on what truly mattered. You thought about the memories you had created here—the laughter, the love, the sense of belonging. This farm was more than just land; it was a part of you, and the thought of losing it felt like a knife twisting in your gut.

Paco shifted beside you, and you reached out to scratch his head, feeling the warmth of his presence. “You’re my little confidant, aren’t you?” you whispered, a smile creeping onto your face, but the uncertainty of the future loomed large in your mind. He bleated softly in response, as if agreeing with you, but the comfort was fleeting.

As the night deepened, the stars twinkled through the barn’s open window, casting a soft glow over the space. You took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scents of hay and earth, allowing the tranquility of the moment to wash over you, but the storm of emotions within you refused to settle.

With your heart still racing from the day’s events, you closed your eyes, letting the gentle sounds of the barn lull you into a peaceful state. You knew that tomorrow would bring challenges, but for now, you felt safe and secure, wrapped in the warmth of the barn and the love of your family—both near and far.

Slowly, your thoughts began to quiet, and as you drifted off to sleep, you felt a sense of hope blooming within you. You would find a way to make your voice heard, and no matter what happened, you would face it all with the strength of your family behind you. But deep down, a nagging fear lingered—what if your voice wasn’t enough? What if the decision had already been made, and you were powerless to change it? The uncertainty gnawed at you, but as sleep began to take hold, you clung to the hope that tomorrow would bring clarity, and perhaps, a chance to reclaim your home.

𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡:

@velvetdolor @k1tashin @egirlbyeol @mulloey @anxietyspacestart @twancingyunhao @akl99 @roseartemis93 @dea-nimus @downbadpandora @frenchkisstheabyss @krispydinasourrunaway @himeiromai @londonbridges01 @ateezmakemeweep @a-tiny-thing @justconniez @blueginz @mlrem88 @bruhmoonlight @ewok7attack @powerpuff-girls4l @anoooon13 @noone356097 @hwasstxr @matzrionette @ninjakitty15 @xhaliemax @reverienymphslibrary @instantbananadaze @spacemonsterrr @stxrswrld @cutejaeyunie @angy287 @mingiswow @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @guest8002 @manu2004 @channiesjagi @lunarphantomvoyager @klarinda-klabisom @writers-thoughts09 @deafeningpandereview

A/n: I could not wait any longer I had to release it. If I didn’t I’d be a raging chimpanzee. Grim’s end will be posted in 2 days time so don’t fret don’t cry, fae’s got you. Enjoy fairies see in the next chapters 🥀❤️

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