Brent’s POV
The night stretched endlessly, the stars scattered across the sky like flecks of silver on a canvas of deep blue. I sat on the porch steps, the faint hum of crickets filling the air, their steady rhythm somehow soothing. In one hand, I held my phone, its screen casting a soft glow in the darkness.
Betty’s message glowed on the screen: How’s the farm?
A small smile tugged at my lips as I typed back quickly: Missing you. The cows do too.
The response was lighthearted, almost playful, but the ache in my chest was anything but. The farmhouse felt emptier without her here, and every corner of it reminded me of her in ways I hadn’t expected. I could still hear her laugh in the quiet spaces, still see her standing on the porch, gazing out at the fields like they held all the answers she was searching for.
The phone buzzed again in my hand, drawing me back. Her reply was short, but it hit me harder than it should have: Miss you too.
I stared at the words for a long moment, letting them sink in. My fingers hovered over the keyboard before I typed back: Soon.
The word felt like a promise, though I wasn’t sure when or how I’d be able to keep it. Still, it gave me something to hold on to.
I leaned back, letting the cool wood of the porch press against my back. The fields stretched out before me, dark and endless, and I let my gaze wander over them. Being here had always been a comfort, a grounding force when life felt too chaotic. But tonight, the emptiness of it all gnawed at me.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to hold on to the image of her—her smile, her laugh, the way her presence had filled this place with a warmth I hadn’t realized was missing. The ache in my chest wasn’t going anywhere, but I held on to the hope that it wouldn’t last forever.
Soon, I told myself, letting the word settle deep in my heart. For now, it would have to be enough.