**Diary Entry – A New Beginning**
I never thought my life would take such a turn. A lone farmer, working the land, just scraping by—until that night. The acrid stench of smoke ripped through my sleep like a thief in the dark, violent and unannounced.
I jolted upright, my heart hammering so hard I feared it might burst. The night outside was unnaturally bright—a flickering, sickly glow painting the walls with eerie shadows. I stumbled to the window, and my blood ran cold. The farm was ablaze. Not just burning—devoured by ravenous flames. The barn, my tools, my dreams, my memories… all turning to ash.
For a moment, I considered retreating to bed and letting it all crumble. What was the point anymore? But then came the agonised bellow of the cattle—my livelihood, my reason to keep going. Despair became fury. I grabbed an axe and ran. The barn door groaned under the heat, but a few hard strikes broke it open. The terrified herd stampeded to safety.
Exhausted, I slumped onto the damp earth, watching a decade of my life burn. Ten years of sweat, pain, and dwindling hope. I had arrived here with nothing but stubborn faith, working myself to the bone. Yet these last years had been cursed—drought, sick livestock, feuds with the villagers. And now, this. Arson.
Then, through the smoke, I saw movement. Two figures—a woman and a boy—fighting the fire with methodical precision. I joined them without a word. By dawn, only embers remained.
“Thank you,” I gasped.
“Margaret,” she replied. “This is my son, Oliver.”
We sat smoking ruins of the barn as the sun rose, painting the sky in cruel pastels.
“Need any work?” she asked suddenly.
I laughed bitterly. “Work? There’s plenty—but no money to pay you. I was planning to sell up. Leave.”
But an idea struck me. Wild, born of exhaustion and a flicker of hope. “Stay. Watch the farm a few weeks. I’ll try selling in town—though God knows who’d buy this wreck.”
Margaret hesitated. “We’ve… run away. My husband. He—” Her voice cracked. Oliver nodded silently.
Something in me shifted. They were like me—battered by life but still clawing forward. “Fine. We’ll manage.”
I left them with hurried instructions, warning them about the villagers. “They’re trouble. Probably started this.”
When my car vanished around the bend, Margaret and Oliver exchanged a look—not fear, but resolve. This was their chance.
They worked tirelessly. Within days, the farm transformed. The yard was tidy, tools sharpened, the cows healthier. Margaret found old invoices and began cold-calling cafes.
One call struck gold. Elizabeth Harrington, owner of a local teashop, sampled their cream—and placed an order. Their first sale.
Meanwhile, Oliver befriended a village girl, Claire. “No one wished harm on you,” she said one evening. “Three years ago, when your cattle fell ill, half the village suffered. Folks tried to help, but you drove them off.”
Margaret probed further. The shopkeeper confirmed: “That feud was never with us. It was that greedy farmer from the next village—wanted your land. Played us against each other.”
One twilight, figures approached the farm. My heart seized—another attack? But the village elder removed his cap, shamefaced. “We’ve come to make peace.”
They confessed: they, too, had suffered sabotage. The rival farmer had poisoned wells, sickened herds—pitting us against each other. “We’ll stand with you,” the elder said.
I returned defeated, expecting ruin. Instead, the farm thrived. The fence was mended, the cows content. Margaret, now a force of nature, was discussing expansion.
Then Viktor came—Margaret’s husband, reeking of whiskey and rage. “Thought you’d escaped?” he snarled.
I stepped between them. One punch sent him sprawling. “Touch her again,” I growled, “and you’ll regret it.” Oliver stood firm beside me. “We’re not afraid anymore.”
After, silence settled. I turned to Margaret, trembling. “Marry me.”
She smiled. “Let me think on it.”
The village insisted on a wedding—tables groaning with cider and pies, laughter ringing under the stars. For the first time in years, I felt whole. We’d saved each other. And now—together—we’d build something brighter.
