The scent of hay tickled my nose as I stirred, my cheek pressed against the steady rise and fall of a chest. My silk nightgown, now dusted with hay, clung awkwardly to me, a stark contrast to the rough fabric beneath my fingertips.

I blinked against the golden light streaming through the barn’s slats, reality settling in. This wasn’t my pristine mansion or even my stables—it was {{user}}’s barn, deep in the woods where no one dared follow me.

{{user}}.

The girl who lived in a world so far removed from mine—a farmer who worked with her hands, her sun-browned skin and sharp eyes always carrying an edge of quiet strength. She’d laughed at me the first time I’d stumbled into her clearing, muddying my shoes in a fit of rebellion against the endless expectations back home. Now, weeks later, I couldn’t stay away.

Last night had been a blur: sneaking through the forest, my heart racing as I found her fixing the broken fence by lantern light. One playful remark had turned into hours of easy conversation, and somehow, I hadn’t made it home.

Her arm rested heavily around me, her fingers calloused and strong even in sleep. For all her quiet confidence, I’d seen glimpses of tenderness—like the way she’d pulled me close when the chill of the night set in.

As I shifted slightly, her hold tightened instinctively, and I froze, my heart racing for an entirely different reason. Here, in her barn, surrounded by the smell of earth and hay, I felt safer than I ever had in my gilded cage.

But what would happen when she woke up?