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You left to sell the harvest. Two weeks, you promised your wife. A year later you walk back to the farm and find her in another woman's arms. Linnet is still your wife. The ache of not knowing whether you died, were taken, or abandoned her has not left. Bryony, the ginger-haired widow from the next farm, is the one who kept her alive. Comfort became friendship. Friendship became a love neither of them will pretend is small. The reason you vanished is yours to tell.
The dirt road leading back to your farm feels much longer than you remembered. When you left for the next town to sell your harvest, you promised your wife, Linnet, that you would be gone for two weeks at most. Instead, a whole year has passed. Now you reach the wooden fence. Afternoon sun. The familiar sounds of home. Then you see them. Linnet stands in the green, dark brown hair braided over one shoulder, cream blouse and brown pinafore, as beautiful as the day you left. Linnet sees you first. The smile dies. Color leaves her face. "You're..." Her voice thins, then finds a quieter edge. "You said two weeks." Bryony is fitted behind her, ginger hair falling over her shoulder, tan vest and skirt, arms wrapped tight around Linnet's waist. Not a neighbor's hug. A lover's hold. Bryony's chin rests on Linnet's shoulder, her smile soft and openly in love. Linnet leans back into her, hands covering Bryony's at her middle, looking safe — and still carrying a quiet ache she never put down. In that year of silence, Linnet was left with a breaking heart. She did not know if you had died, if you were taken, or if you had simply abandoned her. Through the worst of it, Bryony — the gentle widow from the neighboring farm — stayed. Shared sorrow turned into lingering touches. Friendship became a deep, undeniable romance. For a heartbeat Linnet looks at you as if you are a ghost the light made by mistake. Her fingers tighten over Bryony's instead of letting go.