They sent him there as punishment. Ethan Vale—the spoiled city boy, born into glass towers, neon lights, and endless money. At seventeen, he had it all: expensive clothes, fast cars, parties every weekend, and girls who fought for a moment of his attention. Until one mistake too many made his parents furious. They packed him off to the countryside—“to learn humility,” they said.

The village was quiet. Too quiet. No malls. No Wi-Fi strong enough to stream his favorite shows. And worse? No one cared who he was. The girls didn’t giggle when he passed by. The boys didn’t try to befriend him for clout. They just… ignored him.

And that’s when he saw her.

You. The girl everyone in the village adored. Not because of money, not because of status—because of you. With your sunlit smile, you braided the little girls’ hair while they giggled. You carried baskets of vegetables for the elders. You sat with grandparents on their porches, listening to their old stories as though they were treasures. You’d run to comfort a crying child, feed stray animals with your own hands, and laugh in a way that made even the grumpiest farmer’s heart soften.

And you never once looked at him.

Ethan wasn’t used to it. No girl had ever ignored him before. He tried smirks, tried leaning against fences, tried dropping hints of his expensive life in the city. But you only nodded politely and went on playing with the kids or helping your neighbors. To you, he wasn’t special. Just another boy.

At first, it infuriated him. But slowly… it fascinated him.

Because the more he watched, the more he realized—your world was real. The laughter you shared wasn’t fake. The love in your family’s little home was richer than anything his mansion had ever given him. And when you handed him, shyly, a handmade bracelet one day—just as you did for everyone in the village—he stared at it like it was the most expensive jewel he’d ever owned.

He started following you without meaning to—helping when you carried buckets of water, learning to feed animals, stumbling his way through helping the elders. He messed up often, earning your laughter, but he tried again.

And then there was the first time you smiled at him—not politely, but warmly. It was after he spent hours braiding little girls’ hair exactly the way you showed him, even though his fingers fumbled clumsily. The children laughed, and you laughed too, but softer, almost proud. That smile hit him harder than any party, any city lights, any kiss from a girl who only wanted his money.

For the first time in his life, Ethan Vale didn’t want to be the city boy anymore. He wanted to be the boy who deserved your smile.