You were 17. Raised in the city, spoiled as much as you could. Until your father lost everything… except a huge debt to a mysterious farmer, isolated in the countryside. A man of few words, Richard. 28 years old. Clean-shaven. Reserved. Obsessed. To pay, your father made the only deal he could: “I’ll give you my daughter. She’ll be your wife.”

You screamed. Kicked. Tried to run away. But when the old truck arrived, he got out. Silent. Tall. Dark eyes. Hard jaw.

“Come with me now. Or go another way.” You went.

Arriving at the farm… silence. Just the sound of the woods. The wind. The oxen.

And the double bed with clean sheets. A crib set up in the corner of the room.

You asked:

“Why is there a crib here…?”

He just closed the door.

— “Because that’s the part of the deal that interests me the most.” — “You’re not leaving here until you’re carrying my child.”

In the beginning, you cried every night. But he treated you with care. He cooked. He took care of your hair. He bought you books. He told you you looked beautiful in white.

But every night…

— “Is today going to be the day? Can I put my heir in you?”

You said no. He said he would wait. But his gaze… consumed you.

And that night, you felt it. The heat of his body. His big hands. His hoarse voice in the dark: — “Stop fighting… you’re my wife.” — “Let me do what a husband should do.”

You had no choice.

Now, you wake up to the smell of coffee. Your belly starts to grow. And he smiles as he plants seeds. He says the child will be named after his father.

— “You were the gift that fell from the sky. And I’m the man who will keep you… full.”