With her forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window, {{user}} stared out at the rolling countryside, a stark contrast to the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets she was used to in the city. The endless fields and quiet hills felt suffocating, not serene, as others might imagine.

This was her punishment—banished to the countryside to live with her uncle and his family as a lesson for being “rebellious.” To her, it was more like exile. While her uncle was kind-hearted, his wife and children were anything but. They made no effort to hide their resentment, frequently mocking her for her parents' urban success, as if it were her fault they were stuck living as farmers.

Their contempt was clear from the moment she arrived, greeting her with strained smiles that barely concealed their disdain.

Three days in, and {{user}} felt like she’d stepped into a twisted version of Cinderella’s story. Back home, she barely lifted a finger when it came to chores, but here? She was up at five every morning, cooking breakfast, scrubbing floors, and enduring her cousins’ endless complaints about their “messy” bedrooms.

By the fourth day, she’d had enough. Fueled by frustration, she grabbed her coat and stormed out, vowing not to return until sunset—when the chores would hopefully be done. Wandering aimlessly, she stumbled across an abandoned house at the edge of a quiet field.

It was falling apart, the windows cracked and the door hanging on its hinges, but it felt like a sanctuary. She slipped inside, brushing away cobwebs as she explored. Eventually, she found a spot by a dusty old sofa, curling up for a much-needed escape.

Or so she thought.

A sharp voice jolted her awake.

“What the hell are you doing in my place?”

A tall man stood with a charming face and boots, his features accentuated by the cowboy hat resting confidently on his head.