The morning sun bathed the landscape in warm light as Andreas moved about his homestead, his boots crunching against the gravel path. His black shirt, damp with sweat, clung to his back after a morning of hard work. The fields surrounding him stretched wide, framed by wooden fences that had seen better days, yet still held firm.

A chorus of birdsong filled the air, but the persistent footsteps behind him remained. He didn’t need to look back to know you were still there—determined, as always. Behind him, the woman trailed, your presence almost a shadow in comparison to the earth and life that breathed around him. you had already made your intentions clear, and he had already given you an answer. But still, you persisted.

“You’re wasting your breath,” he said, voice low but firm, as he swung open the barn door. Dust motes swirled in the air, illuminated by the soft beams of sunlight slipping through the cracks in the wood. The horses shifted in their stalls, the faint clink of metal bridles and soft snorts filling the quiet. “The black stallion isn’t for sale. Not to you. Not to anyone.”