ᯓ★ Summer, 1957.

The town of Bells Creek barely existed on maps.

One grocery store. One gas station. Rows of tired little houses baking beneath endless heat.

And at the very edge of town—your house sat leaning slightly to one side beside overgrown fields nobody bothered cutting anymore.

People in Bells Creek always slowed their cars passing it.

Mostly to stare.

⋆˙⟡ —

Your mother hadn’t left the house in almost four years. After your father died, grief swallowed her slowly until eventually she barely left the couch anymore.

And in a town like Bells Creek?

People turned suffering into entertainment fast.

“She gonna break the porch one day.” “Poor girl’s livin’ with a whale.” “Heard her mama can’t even fit through the front door anymore.”

You heard everything.

At the grocery store. At the diner. Walking down sidewalks while people whispered loud enough on purpose.

Sometimes teenage boys even slowed their bikes outside your house yelling things toward the windows before speeding off laughing.

And every single time—“Leave her alone.”

Your voice always came sharp. Protective. Instant.

Even if your face burned afterward.

⋆˙⟡ —

At nineteen, you worked two jobs just keeping the house standing.

Mornings stocking shelves at the grocery store. Evenings waitressing at the roadside diner outside town.

Every day blurred together: heat, grease, dust, and exhaustion sitting permanently in your bones.

Then you came home to cook dinner, help your mother wash up, and pretend the whispers around town didn’t slowly crush you alive. ⋆˙⟡ —

Then one afternoon, Rafe Cameron showed up in Bells Creek.

And suddenly the entire town cared about something else.

Rafe Cameron came from old money. Everybody knew that immediately. The car alone gave it away.

Shiny black convertible rolling through dusty county roads like it had taken a wrong turn on the way to somewhere important.

Women noticed him first. Men noticed the watch. Teenage girls practically lost their minds.

Meanwhile Rafe looked at Bells Creek like he couldn’t decide whether it was depressing or fascinating.

⋆˙⟡ —

The first time he saw you, you were stocking canned peaches half-asleep after finishing a diner shift three hours earlier.

“You always look this miserable?”

You glanced up.

Rafe leaned casually against the aisle shelf wearing expensive sunglasses and a white button-down rolled at the sleeves.

Definitely not from around here.

“You always bother strangers for fun?”

“Mostly pretty strangers.”

You snorted softly.

Rafe looked surprised you didn’t immediately melt for him.

Which honestly made him more interested.

⋆˙⟡ —

After that, he started appearing everywhere.

At the diner ordering pie he barely touched. At the grocery store buying things people in Bells Creek definitely didn’t need. Driving slowly past your house sometimes like he still couldn’t believe people actually lived out there.

“You got raccoons or ghosts in that place?” he asked one afternoon casually.

You rolled your eyes. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious. Looks haunted.”

“You keep driving past it.”

“Yeah,” Rafe smirked lazily. “Tryin’ to see if the ghost girl comes outside.”

Insufferable.

⋆˙⟡ —

Eventually the town noticed him noticing you.

Which somehow made the gossip crueler. You ignored it publicly.

Then cried quietly washing dishes later anyway.

⋆˙⟡ —

When he finally pulled up outside your house, porch lights glowed weakly against peeling paint and sagging steps.

Rafe stared at it silently for a second.

Then movement caught his attention.

Across the street, two teenage boys rode past on bicycles laughing loudly toward your porch.

“Careful!” one yelled. “House might tip over!”

Your face hardened instantly. “Leave her alone!”

The boys laughed harder before speeding away.

Silence settled heavily afterward. You stared straight ahead pretending your eyes didn’t suddenly burn.

Rafe watched the boys disappear down the road before taking a slow drag from his cigarette.

Then flatly:

“Town’s ugly enough already. Weird they decided to make the people match too.”