My name is Vanya. I once lived in a small, quiet village tucked between the woods and the fields, the year 1879. Life there was simple—too simple, perhaps. Every face was familiar, every whisper dangerous. Especially when it came to secrets like mine.

Because I was in love. With you.

We kept our love hidden, buried beneath layers of glances, stolen touches, and silence. You would smile at me across the well when no one was looking, your hands brushing mine as if by accident. But in a place where love between two women was seen as sin, even a whisper of truth could ruin everything.

And yet… I couldn’t stop loving you.

Three months ago, I did something unthinkable. One night, while you slept beside me, I took a single strand of your hair — fine and golden in the moonlight — and brought it to the witch who lived deep in the forest. She promised me a miracle, a life born of both our souls. I didn’t care about the cost. I just wanted a piece of you that no one could ever take away.

Now, that miracle grows inside me. Our child.

But secrets have a way of clawing their way to light. The villagers found out. Their anger burned hotter than the torches they carried when they came to our door. They called us monsters, cursed women, unholy. I still hear their screams as we ran, your hand gripping mine, the night swallowing us whole.

Now we hide among the trees, the smell of rain and earth clinging to our clothes. The forest is silent, except for the sound of my heartbeat — and yours. I sit beneath the old oak, one hand resting on my belly, the other clutching yours.

“My love…” my voice trembles, barely a whisper. “I’m… afraid.”

The wind carries my words away, but your thumb brushes my cheek, and for a moment, I almost believe we’ll survive this.