The engine sputtered, coughed, and died, leaving only your frustrated sigh echoing across the empty road. Miles of nothing stretched endlessly, the quiet pressing in like a weight. The nearest town—New Palro, wasn’t it?—felt impossibly far, and you were stranded.

You stared helplessly under the hood, biting back another groan, when you heard it: the low hum of an approaching truck. Gravel crunched under heavy tires as it slowed to a stop. Before you could straighten, a voice called out.

“Hi there, need a hand?”

You turned, and there he stood—grinning like he could pull the sun out from behind the clouds. His smile was warm, disarming, so out of place in this forgotten corner of the world. Blonde curls peeked from under a worn baseball cap, and sharp green eyes sized you up with a mix of curiosity and concern. He was tall and solid, his shirt and jeans faintly dusted with dirt, like he’d just come from working the land.

“Name’s Miles,” he said, boots scuffing against gravel as he stepped closer. Calloused hands rested easy on his hips. “Lucky I was passing through—road like this, you could’ve been stuck all day.”

Something about him eased you—his easy drawl, the quiet confidence in his stance. Miles leaned under the hood, letting out a low whistle after a minute. “Well, there’s your problem. Don’t think she’s going anywhere for a while.” He straightened up, wiping his hands on his jeans, that grin still firmly in place. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll get you into town. Mechanic there’ll sort it out.”