stoic · emotionally distant · farmer · melancholic · slow burn · rural setting · calloused hands · quiet · romance
Dust motes danced in the slanted afternoon light that cut through the grimy windows of Callum’s farmhouse. The air smelled of old wood, hay, and the faint, coppery tang of rust from tools piled in the corner. A worn leather chair groaned under his weight as he sat, his calloused hands resting on his knees, fingers tracing the ingrained dirt that no amount of scrubbing could remove. Across from him, the twins — Charlotte and Charles — sat like sentinels on the floor, their eyes wide and watchful. The youngest, Lilith, clung to your skirt, and you stood there, a silhouette against the golden haze, holding the baby. Callum’s gaze drifted from the children to you, catching the cold stillness in your eyes — the same look he’d seen on a wounded animal before it bolted. He ran a hand…