Shattered vow

I have been living with the Evanses for the past three weeks, and I must say—they're really nice people. Ella treats me like a daughter. According to her, she always wanted a girl, but fate laughed in her face and gave her a male child instead. (Liam. Military man. Captain. Cool, right?)

I can always see the proud smile on the Evanses' faces when they talk about him. They don't just love him—they admire him. Sometimes, I wonder what it's like to have people look at you like that.

"Breakfast is ready!" Ella calls from the kitchen.

Oh, did I mention I'm a terrible cook? No, seriously—my food is worse than Ella's healing herbs. Cooking is definitely not my field. My field right now is literally a field—feeding and milking the cows with Mr. Evans.

Every morning, I feel like I'm committing some kind of crime against those poor cows by touching their boobs. But according to Mr. Evans, it's actually helping them. Apparently, if we don't milk them, they get uncomfortable. Who knew cow boob maintenance was an actual responsibility?

Oh, and did I mention they make wine here? Well, I'm banned from that area. Turns out, my self-control is nonexistent when it comes to wine tasting. Last time, I got so drunk I ended up getting kicked in the face by that damn sassy cow. I swear she judged me before delivering the blow.

Everything here is so organic, and the people are friendly. Not all of them, though—there's always a Judas in every community.

The Evanses aren't rich, nor are they poor. Just average. And honestly? I love it here. I haven't remembered anything from my past, but the doctor says I shouldn't force it. And the bracelet? I told Ella to keep it for now. The last thing I need is another episode.

I pushed those thoughts aside as I walked into the dining room. Ella had set the table, and the smell of fresh bread filled the air. I took my seat, and for a while, it was just the three of us enjoying a simple, warm meal.

Then—knock, knock, knock.

Mr. Evans wiped his mouth and stood. "I'll get it." Ella and I exchanged a glance as we heard the door creak open. A brief silence followed, then Mr. Evans' voice, slightly surprised. "It's a letter. From Liam."

Ella shot up so fast her chair nearly toppled over. "From Liam?"

Mr. Evans returned, holding the envelope carefully, as if it were something fragile. Ella snatched it from his hands, her excitement barely contained. I watched as she opened it, her fingers trembling just slightly.

She read the letter once, then again, and when she looked up, her eyes shone with pure joy. "He's coming home soon." A wide smile spread across Mr. Evans' face. "Our boy is finally coming home."

Ella clutched the letter to her chest, and for a moment, they just stood there, soaking in the news. I sat back, watching them, feeling like an outsider in their happiness. It was sweet. Beautiful, even.

But a small part of me couldn't help but wonder... what kind of person was Liam? And more importantly, what would he think of me living in his house?

As we finished breakfast, a hesitant ahem sounded from the doorway."Good morning," Jack greeted, clearing his throat like he had rehearsed it ten times before stepping inside.

"Good morning, Jack," the Evanses responded warmly."Hi, Jack," I called from the dining table, and the second our eyes met, his face turned an adorable shade of red.

"H-Hi, Sara," he stammered, looking like he wanted to shrink into himself. Jack was a handsome young man-but painfully shy. His father, Mr. Marlow, was Mr. Evans' business partner on the fruit farm. And today was market day, which meant Jack was here to help.

According to Ella, Jack has a crush on me. And yeah, I noticed. I always notice. And let's just say—I never miss an opportunity to use it against him.

Not because I'm cruel. Just because I love seeing his face turn red. Seriously, it's a free form of entertainment. Honestly? I think I might be a villain sometimes. I'm just too brutal.

Mr. Evans stood up, stretching.

"Alright, time to load the fruit. Sara, ready to head to the market?"

Oh, did I mention he loves taking me with him? Apparently, I have great business instincts. Ever since I started tagging along, they always sell out. Mr. Marlow says it's because I'm a young woman and people like buying from me. But who cares? A win is a win. I stood up, pushing my chair back.

"Shall we?"

"Hey, hey! You guys didn't finish your food!" Ella protested. Before she could stop us, I bolted for the door, grabbing Jack by the arm and dragging him along.

"Sara! Come back here!"

"I love you!" I called over my shoulder, laughing as we ran. Behind us, Ella's exasperated sigh mixed with Mr. Evans' amused chuckle.

Yep. Just another morning on the farm.

Mr. Marlow's truck was already rolling down the road, so Jack and I hopped into the back of Mr. Evans' truck, surrounded by crates of fresh apples, peaches, and grapes. The scent of ripe fruit filled the air as we rumbled toward town.

Jack sat stiffly beside me, clearly hyper-aware of our close proximity. I smirked. Time for some fun.

"Jack," I said, leaning slightly closer. "Why are you sitting like a statue? Relax."

His ears turned red. "I-I am relaxed."

"Uh-huh. You look like you're preparing for a military inspection."

Jack cleared his throat, adjusting his posture. "I'm just focused on the market."

"Sure you are." I chuckled, leaning back against the crate.

The drive wasn't long, and soon enough, we rolled into town. The market was already bustling—vendors calling out prices, customers haggling, and the rich scent of baked bread and grilled meat filling the air.

Mr. Evans pulled into our usual spot, and Jack and I hopped out to help unload the crates. I dusted off my hands, ready to work.

"Alright, Sara," Mr. Evans said. "Let's see that magic of yours."

I grinned. "Watch and learn, gentlemen."

Stepping forward, I adopted my best sweet-but-sly saleswoman smile.

"Fresh fruit! The best in town! Sweet as a summer kiss and juicy enough to make your taste buds dance!" I called, picking up an apple and taking a dramatic bite. "Mmm! See? Pure heaven!"

Then, for fun, I added, "Ladies, if you're trying to get something from your man, just take one sexy bite of this fruit—you'll have him wrapped around your finger in no time."

A few people chuckled, but one woman across from me scoffed in disgust. I ignored her—she wasn't my target audience today.

An older woman approached, inspecting the fruit. "Is it really that good?"

I gasped, placing a hand over my chest. "Ma'am, I would never lie about something as sacred as fruit!" I picked up a peach, handing it to her. "Try it—on the house."

She took a bite, and her eyes widened. "Oh! This is delicious!"

"Exactly! And lucky for you, we have plenty!" I gestured grandly to the crates. "Get them while they last!"

Within minutes, a small crowd had gathered. I threw in a few playful winks, hyped up the fruit like it was gold, and just like that, people were buying in bulk.

Mr. Evans shook his head, impressed. "I don't know how you do it, but I'm not complaining."

Jack, who had been silently watching, finally spoke. "You're... really good at this."

I turned to him with a smirk. "Jack, was that a compliment? Are you feeling okay?"

He huffed, face red again. "Forget it."

I laughed. Teasing Jack was way too easy.

And just like that, both trucks were sold out.

"That was amazing, Sara," Mr. Evans said as he loaded the empty crates back onto the truck. He and Mr. Marlow started discussing something, leaving me to stretch and breathe in the now fruitless air.

I turned to climb into the truck—only to spot one last crate at the far end of our stall. Frowning, I walked over to pick it up. That's when I noticed something wedged between the wooden slats. A piece of newspaper, old and torn.

Most of the paper had been ripped away, but a small photograph remained.

A woman.

I stared at it.

She looked like me.

My breath hitched as I ran my fingers over the faded image. How did this get here?

A prickle of unease crept up my spine, and I looked around.

That's when I saw him.

A man stood at the far end of the market, dressed in black. He wasn't shopping, wasn't talking—just watching.

Watching me.

My fingers clenched around the newspaper.

Was I a criminal?

I swallowed hard. That would explain why I ended up in a coma. Why no one came looking for me.

But no—I refused to believe that.

"Sara, let's go!" Mr. Evans called.

"I'm coming!" I shouted back. But when I turned to look again—the man was gone.

Vanished.

It was as if he had never been there.

I quickly stuffed the piece of paper into my pocket before grabbing the crate. Whatever this was, I couldn't let the Evanses find out.

I forced a smile as I climbed into the truck, but the feeling lingered.

Was it just my imagination?

Or was my past finally catching up to me?

I wonder... who is Sara, really?

Well, there's still time to find out together.

And what kind of guy do you think Liam will be? Mysterious? Cold? Or maybe a total sweetheart? Let me know in the comments!