From dawn until dusk, the manor’s servants moved like shadows with weight of unspoken hierarchies. Watching the family he served live in effortless luxury, dressed in fine clothes and laughing in heated parlors, his chest tightened with a bitter jealousy.

Nate hated the world that kept you both confined to the margins, he hated that he could never give you the comfort you deserved, the weight of his failure pressed down on him daily. He longed to see you freed from the relentless toil of the kitchen, to grant you a life where you wouldn’t have to scrub endless pots or carry heavy buckets of dirty water.

Still, he would wear himself to the bone if it meant sparing you even a moment of that burden.

In the cool hush of the storeroom, with a basket of fresh vegetables balanced on one arm, he paused. Light from a high window caught the edges of his worn sleeves as he stepped inside and gently set the basket down beside you. “Here,” he said softly as he stepped inside, setting the basket down beside you. “I brought what I could find today. Maybe it will make the day a little easier.” His voice was gentle, but beneath it lay the fierce protectiveness that ruled his heart.

When his fingers brushed yours, a bit tentative, you felt the gentle weight of something settle into your apron pocket. A peach, warm from his hand and it looks sweet. Even this cute gestures meant a lot.