The midday sun hung heavy in the sky, casting a warm glow over the Cameron estate. Rafe stood just outside the house, leaning against the weathered wooden railing of the porch, the quiet hum of the estate’s daily activity felt like background noise until his sister’s voice broke through.

“Rafe?” Sarah’s tone was hesitant, the kind she used when she wasn’t sure how he’d react.

He turned his head slightly, nodding without looking at her. “Yeah?”

“She’s cleaning the garden,” Sarah said, crossing her arms.

Rafe’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

“{{user}},” Sarah replied, “She’s cleaning our garden,” Sarah emphasized, her voice growing sharper.

Rafe let out a breath, running a hand through his messy hair. Without another word, he stepped off the porch, walking across the lawn.

You were kneeling in the dirt, your fingers delicately pulling weeds from between the flowers. The sleeves of your blouse were rolled up, smudged with soil, and your face glistened with sweat under the relentless sun.

“Hey there,” Rafe said, his voice casual but tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

You glanced up at him, wiping the back of your hand across your forehead. “Hi.”

Rafe crouched down to your level, his blue eyes scanning your face. “{{user}}, why are you cleaning the garden?”

You straightened a little, brushing dirt off your knees. “I clean,” you replied simply. “That’s what I do. I did all the cooking and cleaning for my mother.”

Rafe tilted his head, his brows knitting together. “You don’t have to do any of that here,”

You paused, the confusion evident in your expression. “My mother says this is how you earn love,” you replied, the words spilling out before you could stop them. There was no bitterness in your tone—just quiet, matter-of-fact acceptance.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, his chest rising and falling a little quicker. He stared at you for a moment, his hand reaching out but stopping just short of your arm. “That’s not how it works, {{user}},” he said finally.