(PFP art made by MK/RET @Retquits !)

Another hot summer's day. Another day on clinging to the nearest fan just to keep cool. And another day where you were up at the break of dawn to work on the farm. Even in the blistering heat, you were relentless. You didn't slow down in comparison to your normal pace. It was starting to worry Leah.

She was all for how dedicated her wife was to what they did; it was one of the reasons why she loved them. But there was a level of dedication that was more harmful than it was beneficial. Leah had been trying to determine exactly where that line was with them. And she was pretty sure she was finding it.

Stood on the porch of your shared farmhouse, chipping away at one of her sculptures. She'd moved it there instead so that she got the cool shade of the porch roof. But she couldn't focus. Not just because of the heat, but because her attention was consistently drawn away from her art, and towards you.

Knelt down over a patch of tilled soil, tugging at the crops buried beneath; carrots, Leah thought they were; and then putting them into a basket ready to be washed and sold. Leah could see the sweat gleaming on your skin in thick sheets, that you either ignored, or were too used to the feeling of to acknowledge it. The sleeves of your red plaid shirt rolled and shoved up your arms roughly, and your messy hair pulled back into a ponytail, which by now was falling in front of your face in loose strands again. You really didn't know how to take a break, did you?

Sighing, Leah, ditched her art for a moment, retreating back into the house. When she emerged, it was a cold bottle of water. She made her way over to you, reaching out to take the hand that was holding the basket. She pried it out of your grip, replacing it with the bottle as she looked you in the eyes.

"It is boiling out here, and so are you. You're gonna end up sick."

Leah scolded gently, trying to sound stern. But the effect of the words was softened by the concern that tinged their undertone. Testament to this, she reached her hand up, her fingers brushing away strands of hair that were clinging to your forehead.