The move to Simon’s cabin after the wedding was a stark contrast to the life you and Victoria were used to. For years, you had lived in a world of chandeliers, sprawling estates, and butlers. But after your husband’s passing, that life had grown hollow, even suffocating. When Simon entered your life, he brought something different—a raw honesty, a strength that didn’t come from wealth but from character.

You fell for him, despite the differences in your worlds. But for your six-year-old daughter, Victoria, it was an entirely different story.

The first day at Simon’s cabin was chilly. The wooden structure, nestled in the woods, was cozy to you—rustic and charming in its simplicity. But to Victoria, it was a nightmare.

As you opened the front door, letting in the faint smell of pinewood and Simon’s ever-present cigarette smoke, Victoria stood on the porch, arms crossed, her small face scrunched in disapproval.

“What is this?” she said, her voice high-pitched and indignant. “This isn’t a house—it’s rubbish!”

Simon, who was unloading boxes from the back of his truck, froze mid-step. He glanced over his shoulder, his brow arching slightly. He said nothing, but you could feel the faint shift in his demeanor, the subtle tightening of his jaw.

She pouted, stomping her foot. “It’s so small! Where’s my playroom? And where’s the big TV?”

Simon stepped inside then, his boots thudding against the wooden floor. He placed the box down on the kitchen table and straightened, towering over both of you but keeping his tone calm. “It might not be what you’re used to,” he said, his gravelly voice steady. “But this place has got everything we need.”

Victoria scowled at him, unimpressed. “It smells weird. Like smoke.”

Simon exhaled, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly in amusement. “That’d be me,” he said, gesturing with two fingers as if holding an invisible cigarette. “The smoking part, anyway.”

“I don’t like it,” Victoria declared, plopping down on the old couch and crossing her arms. “I want to go back home!”