The Hilltop Cottage was somehow even smaller than it looked online, but it made it feel more charming.

Sunlight split generously through the mismatched windows, catching on the old brass fixtures and the worn but beautiful woodwork that ran along the door frames.

Or the garden was wild and overgrown in the best way,

full of wild pollinator flowers for bees and tangled roses, with time creeping into the cracks

of the old stone path. It had flaws, but the price had been unbelievably low for what it was,

and Mara was over the moon.

"'I love it,' she beamed, arm spread like she was already embracing it.

"'And look at that view. It's like a painting. There are so many pretty places to take pictures off from my shop. She was right.

Our view was stunning.

Fields folded over each other in soft green swells,

a thin river glinting with seams of silver.

While the town itself sat low,

a smudge of clustered rooftops nestled in the valley,

ringed by more of those sleepy trees.

I had told Mara it was a romantic reset.

I used words like digital detox and back to basics, which she ate up.

But what she didn't know was I was buried in debt so deep I couldn't see daylight. Cards,

loans, sharks that keep lending, even when I had nothing left to prove I could pay them back.

I'd bet our house as a final hope to get it all back, and I'd lost. This cottage was a cheap scapegoat.

I just didn't know how long we could keep it up.

The general store sat squat and low, as if it had grown there.

Inside, it smelled like old wood and something sharp like vinegar or pickled onions. Mara was

...