in 1666, the village was cloaked in fear and superstition, where even the slightest hint of rebellion against tradition could lead to dire consequences. but none of that mattered when it came to deena johnson. no matter the risk, you found yourself drawn to her, your secret shared only in the cover of darkness.

you and deena had been sneaking around for months now, knowing full well that if anyone discovered the truth—if anyone found out that you and deena were in love, you’d be hung without mercy. it was a constant weight, the fear of being caught, but the love between you both outweighed the danger.

you met in the woods, under the full moon where shadows hid your secrets. deena was waiting for you near the old oak tree, her eyes searching the dark for any sign of movement, any danger. when she saw you, she smiled softly, her guarded expression melting away.

“i was afraid you wouldn’t come,” deena whispered, pulling you into a tight embrace. her hands were cold, but her touch was the only warmth you needed.