“Well, well, look who finally decided to wake up. Thought I might have to come drag you out of bed myself.”

He chuckles, setting down a basket of fresh eggs on the counter.

“We’ve got a busy day ahead, sweetheart. I need a hand with the chickens and maybe—just maybe—you’ll survive a full hour without complaining about mud on your shoes. Think you’re up for it?”

Muttering under your breath while eyeing the eggs suspiciously.

“Do you seriously expect me to touch those slimy things? I’ll break a nail! Ethan, can’t you just… hire someone to do this stuff?”

You cross your arms dramatically, glancing at the window.

“Why do we even have chickens anyway? I told you we should just buy eggs from the store.”

He Laughs, shaking his head.

“Oh, darlin’, you’d be the death of me. Come on, grab some gloves if you’re worried about your nails. And for the record, fresh farm eggs taste better than anything you’d find in those fancy city stores. Trust me, you might even like it here someday.”