dollibee

"Hey!" Ellie reached for it, but you held it high above your head with a smug grin.

"You agreed to watch a movie with me," you said. "Not spend two hours shooting twelve-year-olds online."

"They're probably grown adults."

"That somehow makes it worse."

She huffed, crossing her arms as you leaned over and placed her phone on your bedside table—just out of reach.

"Watch the movie, Ellie."

"You are unbelievably annoying."

You cuddled in closer to her, You shifted a little closer until your shoulder brushed Ellie's.

"You love me," you murmured with a teasing smile.

Ellie let out a quiet hum, pretending to stay focused on the movie. You smiled to yourself, settling more comfortably against her. Neither of you moved away.

The room fell quiet again, filled only with the muted dialogue from the television.

After a while, you noticed Ellie wasn't watching the movie anymore. Ellie's gaze drifted from your eyes to your lips before she caught herself and looked away just as quickly.

Your heart skipped. "...Ellie?"

she blinked, suddenly very interested in the blanket pooled across your lap.

"Sorry."

"For what?"

Ellie swallowed hard, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of your blanket.

"I don't know how to say this," she admitted quietly, still avoiding eye contact.

She took a deep breath before finally turning her head to look at you, Her usual calm expression had cracked, replaced with something achingly vulnerable.

"I think..." She let out a nervous laugh. "No, I do like you."

"You like me?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ellie nodded slowly, her face burning. "Yeah... I have for a while actually."

She nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't say anything because I thought you'd laugh at me or something." Her green eyes searched yours anxiously as she waited for your reaction.

"You are such an idiot," you said softly, lifting a hand to cup her warm cheek.

Ellie blinked in surprise at your touch but didn't pull away. "Why?" she asked quietly, leaning slightly into your hand.

Ellie's eyes widened in surprise as your lips met hers, her body going stiff for a moment.

Then, suddenly, she relaxed into you. She let out a soft breath, her hands coming up to grip the front of your shirt as she kissed you back just as desperately. Every ounce of uncertainty and worry she'd been feeling melted away as one hand slid into your hair.

"Fuck," she breathed out shakily, tilting her head slightly to give you better access without even realizing she was doing it.

A small whimper escaped when you kissed a particularly sensitive spot just below her ear. Ellie had never felt anything like this before- the way every nerve ending seemed electrified by your touch.

"You're so beautiful Ellie." You whispered softly against her skin and she let out and embarrassed groan.

"S-shut up." You looked up and she was a mess already and you had barely even done anything. You couldn't help but feel a surge of pride that you had done this to her.

You smiled to yourself as you pushed up her hoodie to reveal she wasn't wearing anything underneath, and you bit your lip to let out any sound.

Ellie was obviously impatient as she squirmed around. "Are you gonna do anything or just stare at me?"

You rolled your eyes. God this girl was something else. You climbed on top of her straddling her lap, her hands flying to your waist instinctively. You lowered your head as you put one of her nipples in your mouth, sucking lightly.

Ellie choked on air, as she started tugging your hair hard. "Shit!" She was trying hard not to make any noise as to wake up your parents, but was failing.

You hummed against her breast and she arched into you, whining. "Please baby..."

You looked up at her, her face was bright red and her eyes where blown. "Please what Ellie?"

"Please just- fuck- just touch me." She whined desperately, trying to move her hips discreetly for any type of friction.

You smirked against her chest. Your fingers ran down her body, to the waistband of her shorts, your heart pounding in your chest.

You pulled it off and could smell her arousal instantly, her boxers soaked through.

"Fuck Ellie, your so sensitive." You mumble as you look at her.

She covered her burning face from your gaze. "Sh-shut up, oh my god."

You lowered your head and sucked her clit through the fabric. Ellie bucked her hips instantly, a high moan escaping her lips.

"Oh shit!." She gasped out.

You could already taste her through the thin fabric, she was so warm and perfect.

"You're so wet baby. Is this all from me? " You asked teasingly.

She didn't get the chance to answer because second you swiped your tongue over her clit again through the fabric of her boxers.

A loud moan tore from Ellie's throat before she could stop it and immediately slapped a hand over her own mouth in panic.

Her eyes went wide with horror at how loud that was, she froze like a deer in headlights - waiting to see if anyone heard.

After a few seconds of tense silence, you realized no one was coming to check on the two of you, and a wave of relief washed over her.

The moment was broken and you couldn't help but giggle at how comically panicked Ellie looked.

"Relax, idiot," you teased softly, leaning over and gently pulling her hand away from her face. "Everyone's sleeping."

You finally slipped off her boxers, leaving her bare cunt to your gaze.

"Fuck Els, who knew you had shut a pretty pussy." You murmur in awe, as you press a soft kiss to her clit."

"Just fuck me already," Ellie bucked her hips into your mouth again, practically sobbing. "Please baby, I need you so bad,"

Her breath hitched sharply when your lips met her clit directly, skin-to-skin this time.

"Oh my god," she whimpered, back arching off the bed as her hands let go of your hair to grab your polka dot sheets.

Her whole body was trembling with anticipation - she'd never been touched like this before and it showed. Every nerve felt electrified.

"You feel so good," you murmured against her before dragging your tongue slowly through her folds.

Her thighs squeezed around your head instinctively when you circled her clit with the tip of your tongue.

"Fuck yes right there!" She groaned, before biting down on her lip to muffle herself again.

You could feel how wet she was - every movement sent slick heat coating your chin. Her hips kept rocking into you, chasing that perfect friction.

You placed both of her legs over your shoulder for better access and she couldn't help but let out a pathetic whimper.

You slipped a finger into her pussy and it sucked it right in. She moaned louder at the sensation as you fucked her with your finger and sucked her clit.

You looked your that spot inside her before you found it and her back fully arched off the bed in a silent moan. You moaned into her clit, heat rushing to your own cunt, and you softly started grinding against your bed, looking for your own relief.

Ellie's breath came in short, shaky gasps as you worked her over with your mouth and fingers.

"Oh god, I'm gonna-" she warned suddenly, her whole body tensing up.

Her thighs squeezed around your head as her orgasm hit her juices covering your chin.

You fucked her through it before she started to kick you away in overstimulation. You got up, wiping your face as you climbed back up her body.

Ellie was a mess underneath you, breathless and trembling from the intensity of it all. Her face was flushed, eyes wide and dark with pleasure.

"Holy hell," she managed to get out, her voice hoarse and cracking. "That was… wow."

You moved to lay down beside her, both of you catching your breath in the afterglow.

"You were perfect." You smile softly at her, brushing the hair stuck to her sweaty forehead away.

Ellie turned her head on the pillow to look at you, a dazed but happy smile playing on her lips, the movie playing the credits.

No one asked.

You certainly never did.

You had learned long ago that silence was another form of obedience.

Another reason why the town adored you. With your gentle smile and unwavering devotion, you were everything a pastor's daughter should be. Mothers pinched your cheeks after Sunday service, praising your sweetness and telling their own daughters they should be more like you.

You smiled every time, but no one noticed how exhausting it was.

Your older sister had once stood exactly where you did.

Then she became pregnant before marriage.

Your father, desperate to preserve both his reputation and the church's, forced her into a hurried wedding with the baby's father. She left soon afterward, taking nothing but a single suitcase.

The only thing she left behind was a folded slip of paper with a phone number scribbled across it.

You still kept it tucked inside your Bible, yet you hadn't spoken to her in years.

The orange sun climbed over the endless yellow fields surrounding your family's farm in rural Illinois. A rooster crowed somewhere in the distance while the first sounds of the morning drifted across the property.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and wandered to the window.

Outside, your father stood in the yard, rake resting against one shoulder as he spoke to someone you didn't recognize.

A woman.

She wore faded blue jeans tucked into worn cowboy boots, a dark red flannel over a white tank top, and a weathered cowboy hat that shaded her face. At first her hair looked brown, but when the sunlight caught it, rich auburn strands gleamed beneath the brim.

As though sensing your gaze, she looked up.

Her moss-green eyes met yours.

Your breath caught.

You ducked away from the window before your father could notice you watching.

Today was the first day of summer break.

You planned to meet a few friends later, spend the afternoon at Bible study, and enjoy the rare freedom that came between school years.

After kneeling beneath the wooden cross hanging above your bed, you folded your hands.

"Thank You, Lord, for another day." The familiar prayer came easily.

When you finished, you slipped into your favorite white dress with its puffed lace sleeves before fastening the silver cross that never left your neck.

The smell of pancakes greeted you downstairs.

A gospel station crackled softly through the old kitchen radio while your mother stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced hands.

Your father sat at the table with a mug of black coffee.

"Morning," he said.

His deep Southern drawl filled the room with effortless authority.

"I hope you've already said your prayers."

"Yes, Father."

Your mother quietly placed his coffee in front of him before turning back to the stove.

Without thinking, you gathered a fistful of your skirt in your hands—a nervous habit.

Your father's eyes flicked downward. "Stop that."

The words were sharp enough to make you immediately let go.

You lowered your gaze to the floor.

"The farmhand's already out in the fields," he said after taking a sip of coffee. "Been working since sunrise."

Your curiosity got the better of you.

"We hired someone?"

He sighed, as though even your question tested his patience. "A young woman. I knew her father years ago. She offered to help for the summer."

You thought back to the woman outside your window.

The one with the green eyes.

Your mother slid a plate in front of you.

"Eat before your chores," she whispered.

You smiled gratefully and reached for the syrup.

The barn smelled of fresh hay and warm animals.

You carried a small wooden stool beneath your arm as you crossed toward Nessie's stall.

"There you are," you murmured, scratching the gray cow between the ears. "Good morning, Nessie. Got any milk for me today?"

She answered with a quiet huff.

You laughed softly before settling beside her with your bucket.

The steady rhythm of milking quickly became automatic.

So automatic, in fact, that you didn't hear someone enter the barn.

"Hello?" The unfamiliar voice startled you.

Your elbow knocked the bucket sideways, spilling milk across the wooden floor.

Nessie shifted nervously.

"Oh—"

Before you could calm her, someone stepped forward, running a gentle hand along the cow's neck.

"It's alright, girl."

Within seconds, Nessie relaxed.

Only then did the stranger turn toward you.

Without her hat, you could finally see her properly.

Freckles dusted her sun-warmed cheeks. Auburn hair curled messily around her face, and dirt streaked across one sleeve from the morning's work.

She smiled.

Your stomach tightened.

She was...

Beautiful.

Beautiful in a way that caught you completely off guard.

"Sorry 'bout that," she said with an awkward laugh. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Her voice was soft, rough around the edges, carrying the same Southern accent everyone around town had—but somehow warmer.

“What, I got something on my face?”

You realized you'd been staring. "Oh." Heat rushed to your cheeks. "No. Sorry."

You quickly bent back over the bucket, pretending to focus on your work.

You could feel her watching you. "I'm Ellie."

She leaned casually against the stall door. "You're Y/N, right?"

You paused. "How do you know my name?"

She laughed.

"You're the preacher's daughter." She shrugged. "The whole town knows you."

Your face warmed even more. "Well..." You cleared your throat. "Shouldn't you be helping said preacher?"

Ellie grinned.

 "I probably should." She paused. "But I just moved here, and I'll be starting school with you in September, so I figured I should try making a friend."

You stood, setting the stool back in the corner of Nessie's stall before lifting the pail of fresh milk.

"Well then," you said, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips, "I'd love to be your friend."

You stepped past her, making sure to balance the heavy bucket of milk carefully, but just as you were about to move away, Ellie reached out toward the bucket. 

"Here, let me help," she offered, her fingers grazing against yours for a fleeting moment, a spark of electricity racing through you at the contact.

You recoiled instinctively, your hand pulling away so quickly that the milk began to slosh over the edge, a frothy splatter hitting the rough barn floor and soaking into the dry hay scattered around. 

You mentally scolded yourself, breath catching in your throat. "It's okay, I've got it. Really—" you insisted, trying to regain your composure.

But Ellie, undeterred by your protest, had already taken hold of the bucket, her eyes bright with determination.

"I don't mind," she replied, her voice airy as she strolled toward the weathered barn doors, the wood creaking gently under the weight of years.

With a playful glance over her shoulder, a teasing smile blossomed on her lips. "We're friends now, aren't we?"

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by her warmth.

"Friends help friends," she added, her tone light, as if sealing an unspoken pact between the two of you.

You watched her silhouette meld with the daylight, a smile reluctantly spreading across your own face, drawn in by her contagious joy.

Adjusting the fabric of your dress in anticipation, you quickened your pace, the warm midmorning sun casting a golden glow over the farm.

Together, you walked in a comfortable silence, the gentle clink of the bucket swinging between you accompanied by the faint sounds of nature. Chickens, startled from their pecking, scattered from your path with a cacophony of clucks, their feathers ruffling in a chaotic flutter as Ellie burst into laughter.

"Are they always this skittish?" she asked, amusement dancing in her voice, her eyes sparkling like the sunlit sky above you.

You couldn’t help but smile, even if just a little. "Only when they think someone's about to feed them."

"So... always, then?" Ellie replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

A soft laugh bubbled up from your throat before you could stop it, warm and genuine.

Ellie’s grin stretched wider, as if she had just uncovered a delightful secret, a victory in the playful banter between you two. 

Outside, your mother was busy at work, her figure framed by the sun's golden rays as she carefully pinned freshly washed sheets onto the clothesline. The crisp white fabric danced and billowed gently in the soft breeze, shining brightly against the clear blue sky, filling the air with the faint, comforting scent of cleanliness. 

She smiled softly, her eyes lighting up when she spotted the two of you approaching. 

"Oh dear," she exclaimed, her voice warm and inviting as she hurried over. "You didn't have to carry that all this way." 

Ellie, with a hint of modesty in her tone, handed her the heavy bucket. "It wasn't any trouble at all, ma'am," she replied, her cheeks slightly flushed. 

Your mother, her face radiating gratitude, took the bucket from Ellie's hands with a gentle touch. "Thank you," she said, full of gratitude. 

As she turned to step inside the house, the door creaked open, and your father emerged into the soft afternoon light. His gaze immediately fell on the two of you.

"You finished tending to the cows?" 

"Yes, Father." You lowered your head, a wave of unease washing over you as I sensed the familiar storm of his temper brewing beneath the surface.

He shifted his gaze from me to the fields, his expression as stern as the thick clouds gathering on the horizon. With a slight nod, he gestured toward the sprawling expanse of land. 

"The south fence won’t mend itself," he said, each word heavy with expectation.

Ellie tipped the brim of her worn hat. "On it," she replied confidently, her voice brightening the dim air.

Before she ambled away, a final glance cast back in your direction sent a flutter of anticipation through you.

"I’ll see you around, preacher's daughter," she called out, her smile lingering in your mind.

"You seem rather taken with her," my father remarked, his tone sharp enough to slice through my reverie.

"What?" you snapped your head from the side where you were watching Ellie’s silhouette.

"You’ve been staring," he pointed out, his eyes narrowed in that way that always made you feel both exposed and challenged. He seemed to change his mind as he just shook his head. “You know what, just finish with your chores.”

You said nothing as he walked past you towards the fields. You sighed as you turned to go collect eggs.

As you finished gathering the eggs from the nesting boxes, the sun had risen high in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow that kissed the back of your neck. 

Carefully, you balanced the woven basket against your hip, its surface cool and smooth, and you began your trek back to the house. Each step was taken with mindfulness, as you navigated the uneven, sunbaked soil, determined not to crack any of the eggs.

Upon reaching the screen door, it let out a familiar creak, a sound that echoed softly as you pushed it open and stepped inside. 

The kitchen welcomed you with the comforting aroma of freshly baked bread. Your mother stood at the counter, her hands deftly kneading the soft, elastic dough, a rhythmic motion that accompanied the gentle hum of hymns drifting from the old radio perched on the shelf. 

Without glancing away from her task, she asked, "You found all of them?"

"Twenty-three," you replied, holding up the small basket.

"Good," she said, a small smile breaking across her face, lighting up her features. "Set them beside the sink, please."

You followed her instructions, placing the basket carefully beside the sink, the eggs nestled snugly within their straw bedding. Afterward, you reached for a nearby towel, its texture rough against your palms, and wiped the dirt from your hands.

Before you could gather your thoughts to speak to your mother, your father stepped in through the creaking back door, peeling off his worn work gloves, their leather cracked from long hours in the fields.

"The horses are out in the pastures now," he declared, the scent of hay and earth clinging to him as he shook off the remnants of the barn.

Your mother glanced up from her task, her hands busy arranging a vibrant spread of fresh vegetables and bread on the kitchen table. "Lunch is nearly ready," she replied.

He turned his gaze toward the sunlit window that framed the sprawling fields, the gentle sway of the grasses whispering secrets to the breeze.

"Go call Ellie," he instructed, a note of authority in his tone.

You blinked in surprise, taken aback. "Me?" 

"Yes, you heard me," he affirmed.

You quickly nodded. "Yes, Father."

The journey to the south pasture stretched on longer than you had remembered, each step revealing more of the sun-drenched landscape.

Cicadas buzzed insistently from the trees, their persistent drone weaving harmoniously with the rhythmic chirping of crickets concealed within the tall grasses. Wildflowers painted the edges of the fence line, their vibrant colors swaying gently in the soft, warm summer breeze.

As you drew closer, you spotted Ellie perched on one of the rustic wooden fence posts, her brow furrowed in concentration as she wiped the sweat from her forehead with a weathered rag. The flannel shirt she had worn that morning was now tied around her waist, exposing her sun-kissed skin in her white tank top, which was slowly turning brown. There was a tattoo on her right forearm that you hadn’t noticed before. 

She appeared weary from the heat and hard work, but her face brightened with a smile the moment she caught sight of you.

"Well, if it isn't my new friend," she said, her voice laced with playful warmth.

You felt a rush of warmth blossom in your cheeks at her greeting.

"My father said lunch is ready," you managed to reply, the hint of a smile breaking across your own face.

She gracefully hopped down from the wooden fence, her movements fluid and effortless, as if she were born to navigate the rural landscape.

"I was beginning to wonder when he'd remember that I need to eat," she said, a hint of playful exasperation in her voice.

The two of you fell into step beside each other, the sound of your boots crunching on the gravel path echoing in the stillness of the afternoon.

"You've been working since sunrise?" you inquired, curiosity piquing your interest.

"Mhm," she replied, her gaze ahead, focused but relaxed.

"Doesn't that bother you?" you pressed, intrigued by her stamina.

She shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that spoke volumes about her attitude.

"Not really," she assured you, her tone light as she took in the surrounding fields that stretched endlessly.

"You don't mind all this hard work?" you asked again, genuinely surprised by her level of contentment.

She let out a laugh, bright and genuine, breaking the rhythm of the moment.

"I grew up on a ranch in Oklahoma. This," she gestured broadly to the landscape around you, "is a vacation compared to branding cattle."

Your eyes widened.

"You branded cattle?" You asked, curiosity flickering in your eyes.

"Sure did," she replied with a grin, her confidence palpable.

"Isn't that... dangerous?" You questioned, a hint of concern creeping into your voice.

"Sometimes," she admitted, her demeanor shifting slightly as she recalled the moments of risk.

"You could've gotten hurt," You said. Your father had tried branding cattle on his own once and had a permanent reminder on his stomach of how that turned out.

"I did," she confessed, twisting her arm to reveal a thin, white scar that snaked its way along her forearm, a stark contrast against her sun-kissed skin.

"Kicked by a calf," she added nonchalantly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"You don't have any scars?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, her eyes searching your face for answers.

You hesitated, memories of deep, ugly bruises on your back and arms flashing before you. Instinctively, you tucked your hands behind your back, a defensive gesture.

"I don't think so," you finally replied, the weight of unspoken truths lingering in the air.

"Huh, " She smiled. "I figured everybody who lived on a farm had at least one."

She nudged your shoulder gently, a playful glint in her eyes. "Looks like it’s my job to show you how to embrace a little fun this summer."

You turned to her, curiosity piqued. "Fun?"

Her laughter rang out, bright and infectious, filling the air between you. "You say that like it’s a foreign concept."

"I know what fun is," you replied, trying to sound confident.

"Oh really?" she teased, crossing her arms in a mock display of seriousness, her stance lightening the mood.

With a playful smirk, she leaned closer. "When’s the last time you laughed so hard that you started hiccuping?”

You opened your mouth to respond, the words forming in your mind, but then you hesitated, closing it again.

Ellie's expression shifted as she raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued.

"I thought so," she said, a hint of mischief in her tone.

"I..." You frowned, feeling a knot of uncertainty in your stomach. "I don't think that's something we're supposed to do."

"Says who?" she shot back, her eyes sparkling with challenge.

"My father," you replied, the weight of his words echoing in your mind.

She hummed thoughtfully, the sound barely breaking the stillness of the moment.

"And what do you think?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, her gaze probing and warm.

You paused, struck by the realization that you hadn’t really considered the possibility of a different viewpoint.

"I... don’t know," you admitted quietly, the uncertainty hanging in the air between you.

For a fleeting moment, silence enveloped you, the world around you fading into the background.

Then, a bright smile spread across Ellie’s face, illuminating her features.

"Well," she said, her voice cheerful, breaking the tension.

"Maybe we'll figure that out together,” she said softly, a hint of warmth in her voice.

As she spoke, she deftly plucked a single wildflower between her slender fingers. With a gentle flourish, she extended her hand toward you, presenting her gift.

“For you,” she declared, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

You looked down at the small flower. No one had ever given you a flower before, and you found yourself captivated by the simple beauty of the gesture.

“It's just a weed,” Ellie added, a hint of nerves dancing on her lips. Her small grin illuminated her face, making the moment feel even more special. “But it's pretty, and I figured they deserved better than getting stepped on.”

With care, you accepted the flower, holding it gently as though it might disintegrate into petals at any moment. The unexpected gift felt like a treasure in your hands, a symbol of something precious.

“Thank you,” you murmured, feeling an unexpected rush of gratitude.

Her smile widened, a radiant beam of joy that made your heart swell. 

“It looks prettier with you holding it,” she said, her gaze lingering on the flower between your fingers, as if it were somehow enhanced by your presence.

Your breath caught in your throat, a gentle shock that momentarily silenced the world around you.

The compliment lingered, weaving its way into the depths of your chest, igniting a warmth that was both comforting and entirely foreign.

Before you could formulate a response, the farmhouse came into view, its familiar outline sharp against the sky.

There stood your father on the porch, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, an imposing figure framed by the rustic charm of the home you had known all your life.

Without uttering a single word, you carefully tucked the wildflower in the small pocket in your dress.

The two of you walked in silence, the quiet stretching out like a warm blanket wrapped around you, enveloping you both in a cocoon of unspoken thoughts until you finally reached the front porch. 

Your father moved aside just enough to allow you and Ellie to pass, his keen gaze momentarily flitting over her before landing on you. There was an unyielding seriousness in his expression. “Wash up,” he ordered, the authority in his voice unmistakable. “Food’s getting cold.” 

“Yes, Father,” you replied, the weight of his stare still heavy on your shoulders.

As you stepped into the kitchen, the inviting aroma of freshly baked bread mingled with the savory scent of golden fried chicken and the sweet essence of buttered corn. The dining table was elegantly set, your mother meticulously arranging each plate with care, a gleaming pitcher of sweet tea sitting proudly at its center, catching the light like jewels.

Ellie paused in the doorway, uncertainty flickering across her features. “Would you like me to eat outside, sir?” she asked, her voice tinged with hesitance as she glanced at your father.

He met her gaze with a firm look, causing her to draw back slightly. “No.” 

With that final word, Ellie seemed to release a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “We say grace before every meal,” your father announced, his voice steady, reinforcing the traditions that shaped your family.

"Of course," she replied softly.

As the chatter subsided, everyone found their places around the table, the subtle sounds of chair legs scraping against the wooden floor filling the room. 

You instinctively folded your hands, fingers intertwining as you lowered your gaze, embracing the moment of reverence that filled the air.

"Heavenly Father," your dad began, his voice steady and warm, drawing the family’s attention. "Thank You for providing this food and for the hands that worked diligently to prepare it. Guide us to remain faithful servants and protect this household from temptation and wickedness. In Jesus' name."

“Amen," you and your mother echoed, the sound lingering in the air like a warm embrace.

Ellie sat at the table, her gaze dropping to her plate for a moment before she softly added, "Amen," her voice barely above a whisper.

As the meal commenced, an enveloping silence settled over the table, punctuated only by the gentle clink of silverware against porcelain, creating a soothing rhythm amidst the evening’s gathering.

After a brief pause, your father broke the quietude, his voice steady as he looked across the table. 

“So... Williams,” he began, the weight of his curiosity evident in his tone.

Ellie’s eyes flicked up to meet his, a hint of apprehension dancing in their depths.

"Sir?" she replied, her voice composed yet tentative.

“Your father tells me you've lived in quite a few places,” he continued, studying her attentive expression.

She nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips, as memories of her past flitted through her mind. 

"We moved around a lot growing up," she explained, her words laced with a tinge of nostalgia.

“For work?” your father inquired, his eyebrows raised in genuine interest.

"Mostly," Ellie confirmed.

“What kind of work?” he probed further.

“Ranches. Seasonal jobs,” she replied, her voice steady as she reminisced about the various landscapes that had cradled her childhood adventures. “Wherever there were horses or cattle, we'd usually end up there."

“Hm.” 

Your father chewed thoughtfully, savoring his food, before turning his attention back to the conversation. 

“You don’t attend church?” 

His question hung in the air, surprising you with its suddenness.

Ellie swallowed hard, the tension in the room palpable as all eyes turned to her. 

“No, sir,” she replied, her voice steady despite the weight of your father's gaze.

An uneasy silence descended as the clinking of cutlery faded, and your father's fork came to rest on his plate, the sound echoing in the stillness. 

“No?” 

He leaned in slightly, his brows furrowed in curiosity or perhaps concern.

“My father was never really religious,” she explained, her gaze drifting momentarily to the floor as if searching for the right words. 

Your father fixed his gaze on her, his expression a mix of contemplation and understanding, the silence stretching between them like an unspoken bond.

"I see," he finally responded, his voice steady yet soft.

Across the table, your mother, sensing the weight of the moment, quickly reached for the basket overflowing with steaming, freshly baked rolls. The warm, yeasty aroma filled the air, wrapping around them like a cozy blanket.

"Would you like another?" she asked gently, her voice laced with warmth as she extended the basket toward Ellie, offering a roll that glistened with butter.

Ellie’s face lit up as she accepted the gesture, a grateful smile spreading across her features. 

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you," she replied, her eyes shining with appreciation.

Your mother returned the smile at Ellie’s response. 

"I'm glad someone appreciates my baking," she said, her tone sincere.

"I appreciate it a lot," Ellie exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with delight as she took another bite. "This is probably the best homemade bread I've tasted in years." 

A delicate blush crept across your mother's cheeks, illuminating her face with a warm glow. 

"You flatter me," she replied, a shy smile touching her lips.

"I'm serious," Ellie insisted, her sincerity evident in her tone. 

Your mother let out a quiet laugh, a sound so soft and fleeting that it almost escaped the air entirely. It was a rare sound, one that you didn’t hear often in your household.

Just then, your father cleared his throat, the sound breaking the momentary bubble of warmth. 

"You've never been to church?" he asked, curiosity lacing his voice.

"I’ve been a few times," Ellie replied, shrugging lightly, a casual gesture that belied the depth of her experience.

"Weddings, Funerals, Christmas, perhaps just once or twice."

"And you don't believe?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued.

Ellie hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly as she weighed her words. 

"I've... never really considered it much," she finally admitted, shrugging as she started eating once more.

You found yourself staring in disbelief, your mouth slightly agape.

It was unfathomable to you—the idea of not contemplating the existence of God.

For you, faith wasn't just a part of life; it was intricately woven into the very fabric of your existence. 

Every prayer offered in gratitude or longing, each meal shared with a sense of blessing, the countless choices made under the watchful eyes of divine approval—these were the threads of your daily life.

What would it truly be like to wake up each morning free from that inner dialogue, devoid of the need to seek God’s guidance for every step you took?

The thought felt almost impossible.

Your father gave a slow nod.

"Everyone should know the Lord."

“Maybe someday,” she replied softly, a hint of irration lacing her tone as she looked away, lost in thought.

His response seemed to satisfy him, and the conversation gradually shifted to lighter topics, the tension easing like the sun breaking through a thick cloud cover.

You finally released the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, the moment hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

After lunch, Ellie offered to help your mother carry the stack of dishes into the kitchen, her movements confident and purposeful as she navigated the busy space. Once the last plate was set down with a soft clatter, she quickly stepped outside again, eager to dive back into her work under the warm sun.

You lingered in the doorway, watching her.

There was no hint of hesitation in her actions. She didn't pause to glance around or wait for instructions; instead, she seemed to instinctively sense what needed doing and tackled it head-on.

You realized how seldom you encountered people like her.

In your town, everyone had their roles carved in stone. The women took care of the cooking and cleaning, their smiles practiced and polite, while the men went about their business of working, leading, and making the decisions that dictated the rhythm of life. Each person fit neatly into their prescribed label.

But Ellie Williams appeared to step outside those invisible boundaries.

Or maybe...

She simply chose not to be confined by them.

The realization jolted you, sending an unexpected flutter of confusion through your mind.

You promptly dismissed the thought, shaking your head as if to clear it.

She was just different, that was all.

Different wasn't always a bad thing.

You stepped outside, greeted by the warm, gentle breeze that brushed against your skin like a soft caress. The fields unfurled before you, a mesmerizing expanse of gold shimmering under the radiance of the afternoon sun, each blade of grass dancing in the wind.

Near the west barn, Ellie was hard at work, skillfully stacking hay bales just as your father had instructed. Her cowboy hat was tilted low, casting a shadow over her sparkling eyes, and her rolled-up sleeves revealed arms tanned from the sun, glistening with the sweat of her labor.

Though she had only arrived that very morning, Ellie exuded a sense of belonging, as if the land itself had embraced her. 

Suddenly, as if she could feel your gaze, Ellie looked up. 

Time seemed to pause.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved, caught in a shared moment of unspoken acknowledgment.

Then, she smiled.

It wasn’t just the polite smile she reserved for your father. It was a genuine, carefree smile that lit up her face and reached her eyes, radiating warmth and authenticity.

Without thinking, you found yourself smiling back, an instant reaction that surprised you.

Ellie lifted a hand in a friendly wave, her eyes sparkling with playful mischief.

You hesitated, a flutter of uncertainty in your chest.

But then, you waved back, your hand feeling light and unburdened as it cut through the air.

An unusual warmth settled within you, spreading like the golden sunlight that bathed the fields.

You didn’t understand why it felt so different.

Why someone you had only just met hours ago could already make the expansive farm feel less lonely, less isolating.

You were puzzled by why her laughter echoed in your mind long after she had walked away, lingering like the sweet scent of wildflowers in the breeze.

And you couldn't quite grasp why a simple smile from her stirred something deep inside you, something that felt both exhilarating and forbidden.

That night, as you knelt beside your bed, your fingertips clutched together..

You folded your hands, a ritual you had practiced countless times before.

But this time, for the first time in years, words eluded you; they felt heavy and distant.

You closed your eyes, seeking solace.

"God..."

The name rolled off your tongue, familiar and comforting.

Yet, the thoughts that followed were a wild scramble of uncertainty.

For now, you weren’t asking for forgiveness.

You were grappling with a question, one that lingered in the silence of your heart.

And you were unsure what the answer might hold, or if you were ready to face it.