A wealthy tycoon made his son tie the knot with a down-to-earth farmer as a tough lesson. But he was blown away by what his son pulled off…

Every part of him wanted to quit, to throw the shovel down and walk away, but there was nowhere to go. Vermont stretched out around him for miles, isolating him from the world he once knew. The realization made him feel claustrophobic, trapped.

At midday, Emma came back, her face slightly softer, but still unreadable. How’s it going? Richard wiped the sweat from his forehead, looking at the half-done job with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. How do you think it’s going? He snapped, too tired to hold back.

Emma didn’t respond immediately, just walked over to inspect his work. It’s not bad, she said, her tone neutral. But you’re not done.

Richard blinked at her, incredulous. Not done. I’ve been at this for hours.

Farm work doesn’t care about how long you’ve been doing it. It cares about getting done, so get back to it, Emma said, handing him a bottle of water before turning back to her own tasks. He watched her walk away, a wave of resentment washing over him.

He wasn’t built for this. He wasn’t made to break his back every day just to keep a farm running. This wasn’t his life.

And yet, it was now. He had no choice. By the time the sun began to set, Richard’s entire body ached in ways he didn’t know were possible.

His clothes were filthy and his hands were blistered from gripping the shovel for hours on end. When he finally finished the last stall, he slumped against the side of the barn, too exhausted to move. Emma appeared again, this time holding two plates of food, simple sandwiches and a couple of apples.

She handed one to him without a word and sat down beside him, looking out over the fields. You’ll get used to it, she said quietly, breaking the silence. Richard took a bite of the sandwich, too tired to argue.

I don’t know if I will. Emma glanced at him, her expression unreadable once more. You will, she said with certainty.

People can adapt to a lot more than they think. They sat in silence after that, the weight of the day hanging heavy in the air. The farm was quiet now, the animals settled, the sun casting long shadows across the fields.

For the first time since arriving, Richard found a strange sense of calm washing over him. It wasn’t the life he wanted, but there was something about the simplicity of it all, something that, for just a brief moment, made him feel less lost. But the calm didn’t last long.

As the evening breeze blew through the trees, Richard was reminded of the life he’d left behind, the life waiting for him if he ever figured out how to escape this place. Vermont might have been peaceful, but it wasn’t home, not yet. Days turned into weeks, and Richard’s life on the farm settled into a grueling routine.

He woke up before dawn, spent hours performing menial tasks, and went to bed exhausted, only to repeat the cycle the next day. Despite his best efforts to resist, the rhythms of farm life were pulling him in, whether he liked it or not. But no matter how much he tried to throw himself into the work, the tension between him and Emma remained.

They barely spoke outside of the necessities of running the farm, their interactions short and to the point. Richard wasn’t used to being ignored, especially not by a woman. Back in New York, he had always been the Here, he was just another pair of hands.

One evening, after an especially long day in the fields, Richard found himself pacing the kitchen, the silence of the house gnawing at him. Emma was outside, tending to the animals for the night. He could see her through the window, her figure moving with purpose, as it always did.

There was something about the way she carried herself that unnerved him. She was strong, self-reliant, and completely unaffected by him. It was almost insulting.

Richard grabbed a glass of water and leaned against the counter, staring out at the darkening sky. His frustration was mounting, and it had nowhere to go. He had never felt so out of control in his life.

This was supposed to be temporary, a punishment, sure, but one that he could ride out until his father came to his senses. But now, he wasn’t so sure. Henry hadn’t called, hadn’t checked in, hadn’t even sent a word.

It was as if he’d been abandoned out here. As the door creaked open, Emma stepped into the kitchen, wiping her hands on a rag. She glanced at Richard, but said nothing, moving toward the sink to wash up.

The silence between them was heavy, thick with unspoken resentment. Richard couldn’t take it anymore. Do you enjoy this? He asked, his voice sharper than he intended…