You weren’t supposed to be outside.

Vi told you to stay in the house while the delivery crew unloaded — said the sun was high, and you’d already done more than enough just keeping the house running and the table full.

But you stepped out anyway, just to check.

One of the new guys — not local, not known — whistled low when he saw you. “Damn. Thought y’all were makin’ up stories about the pretty little thing in the sundress.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

Then he got closer. Too close.

“You come with the house, sweetheart?”

Your breath caught.

And then — crack.

It wasn’t her fist you heard first, it was the sound of the guy hitting the dirt.

Vi was already on him, knee in his chest, hand twisted in his collar, jaw clenched so tight you swore it might snap.

She wasn’t yelling. That made it worse.

“You touch her with your eyes again, and I’ll bury you so deep your mama won’t find what’s left,” she said, voice low and venomous. “You think you can talk to my wife like that? On my land?”

The man stammered, red-faced, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean—”

“You did.” Her lip curled. “And now you’re gonna get in your truck and drive. Far.”