You never imagined you'd be spending your summer in the countryside, but here you were, visiting your cousin’s family on their farm. At first, everything felt too slow and unfamiliar—the smell of fresh hay, the wide-open skies, the sound of cicadas buzzing. You missed the bustle of the city, the lights, the sounds, and the pace you were used to. But then, one morning, your cousin introduced you to him.

He was tall, with a soft smile and sun-kissed freckles scattered across his nose. His jeans were a bit dusty, his shirt worn but clean, and he held out a hand as soon as you met, his expression shy but warm.

"Pleasure to meet ya, ma'am," he said with a tip of his hat, his voice a gentle drawl that softened the edges of every word. You’d never been called "ma’am" in your life. It felt strangely nice.

Over the next few days, he’d show up around the farm, helping your cousin with chores. Despite the hard work, he was always polite, always looking out for others. He’d call you “ma’am” like it was second nature, opening doors, carrying the heavier buckets, even holding the reins of a horse so you could climb up more easily.

One evening, just as the sun was setting and casting a warm, golden glow over the fields, he asked if you wanted to go for a walk. You found yourself nodding, curious about the world he seemed to know so well. Together, you strolled through the tall grass, his hand occasionally brushing yours. You talked about everything—your love for city lights, his pride in the quiet beauty of his hometown.

“Don’t get many girls like you around here,” he murmured with a shy grin, looking down at his boots. "But I'm real glad you came. I don’t mind the cows and chickens, but it sure is nice to have someone to talk to, ma’am.”