Warm morning sunlight bathed the large open patch in front of the house. The weather was clear, and every so often some neighbor's cat or dog would trot past the doorway, leaving a meow or bark behind. The firewood stacked against the wall had long since dried, but no one bothered to carry it inside to burn anymore.
After Aunt Claire took to her bed with serious illness, nearly all the heavy work around the place had fallen on Uncle Dale's shoulders. The chores no one had time for slowly piled up until the whole house looked like a wreck.
Sunlight spilled into the old woven basket. Noah and Evelyn sat on small stools by the front door, snapping ears of corn with steady cracks. The yellow kernels rained down into the basket with soft little plinks.
"Eve, how's Aunt Claire holding up?"
"Birth, aging, sickness, death—it's just how life goes." Evelyn turned the ear of corn in her hands. Her voice carried no heavy grief, only a quiet calm. "Aunt Claire has made peace with it. What's left for your sister to cling to?"
"But she doesn't have any kids, right? After this… Uncle Dale will be left all alone."
"Aunt Claire already talked to him. She told him to leave this place and start fresh somewhere else. The rest has nothing to do with us."
"Eve…" Noah paused, searching for something comforting to say.
"Nate, if your sister ever…"
"Don't." He cut her off sharply. "You never let me joke about stuff like that. You're not allowed either."
Evelyn gave a soft little smile, looked up at him, and flicked her finger gently against his forehead. "Silly boy, now you're lecturing your sister."
The sun climbed higher, its bright warmth soaking into their skin. A few villagers walked past the gate, saw Evelyn, and quickened their steps with obvious disgust. She paid them no mind.
But soon a short, stocky middle-aged man came straight up to the house. The moment he spotted Evelyn, pure malice filled his eyes. A cheap cigarette bobbed between his lips as ugly curses spilled out.
"Who the hell do I see? If it ain't the bastard spawn of that shameless little whore. No wonder the whole damn New Year feels cursed. Disgraceful troublemaker. Same rotten goods as your mother, and you still dare show your face back in the village."
"Who are you? Got a problem?" Noah stood up, stepping squarely in front of Evelyn, jaw tight, brows drawn, fists clenched, radiating real menace.
"Who the fuck are you, kid? Trying to stick up for this little bastard? Let me tell you, her mother was a curse on this place and she is too. You hang around with her and—"
"Say one more word and see what happens." Noah's harsh tone sliced the man off mid-sentence. His knuckles turned white.
He looked ready to charge and beat the man senseless.
"Little punk putting on airs. You even know what kind of thing you're protecting?"
Noah ignored him, glaring hard, eyes burning.
Other villagers had only muttered curses, shot dirty looks, whispered behind their backs. This guy was pushing it on purpose—clearly some old grudge.
But none of that mattered. The fact that he was insulting Evelyn made Noah's blood boil past the point of holding back.
Suddenly he felt a cool touch wrap around his hand. Evelyn stood beside him, silent, staring at the man with a face like frost.
Her fierce expression felt completely different from Noah's. Where his was hot, youthful anger, hers carried a dark, icy ruthlessness—like a bloodied blade that would cut until nothing was left.
Facing her, the man actually backed up a half-step, though his mouth kept running with the same filth. "Little bastard, you dog-bitch spawn. I'm telling you both to get the hell out of the village before—"
He never finished. Noah lunged forward and drove his fist straight into the man's fleshy face. The guy staggered back a few steps, caught his balance, then snarled at Noah, reason burned away by rage. He charged.
This time his punch slammed into Noah's stomach. As they separated, Evelyn caught Noah, holding him back from rushing again.
"Enough!" Uncle Dale burst out of the house gripping a rusty firewood axe, eyes blazing. "Wade Harlan, after more than ten years you still haven't run out of curses? Coming around causing trouble on New Year's—do I need to shut that filthy mouth of yours for good?"
The man shot them one last furious look, didn't dare push further, and finally stomped off still swearing. Uncle Dale dropped the scary act, turned back, and checked on them. "You two alright?"
"We're fine. Thank you."
"If he comes back, just holler. Once Claire's gone, I won't be staying here anyway. No need to fear them."
He went back inside. Evelyn tucked away the crimson violence in her eyes for now, lifted the hem of Noah's shirt, and carefully inspected the spot where the punch had landed. "Does it hurt a lot?"
"Not anymore. Really, I'm okay. Don't worry."
"Really?"
"Really. I'm not some fragile vase that shatters from one hit."
After that, no one else came looking for trouble. Evelyn never brought up the past, and Noah didn't ask.
The sun rose and set. Another day slipped away. That night, after dinner, Noah sat in the dim room, leaning on the windowsill and staring out at the scattered lights of the village. Behind him the door clicked shut and locked.
He turned. Evelyn had just finished showering, cheeks still softly flushed with steam. She wore a low-cut white short-sleeve top, the elegant line of her collarbones showing, a generous stretch of pale skin visible at her chest.
"Nate, come here."
"What's up?"
Evelyn sat on the edge of the bed and patted her lap. "Lie down. Rest your head on your sister's thigh. I have something to tell you."
Noah walked over and obediently lay down, pillowing his head on her soft leg. Her long damp hair carried the scent of water. Her slender arm draped across his chest, the full curve above blocking part of his view.
"You've been curious for a long time, huh? Why haven't you asked your sister?"
"Because if you wanted to tell me, you would. If you don't, I won't push."
"Silly boy." Evelyn smiled gently. "That man today is Wade Harlan. He used to be one of your mother's suitors back then."
The clean scent of her body wash mixed with the faint rose fragrance of her skin drifted around Noah's nose. He blinked, trying to see her face, but every time he turned his head the view was blocked by her chest. Only her cool, clear voice reached his ear.
"His father moved into the village decades ago—a small-time local boss with a bit of money. He helped the village a lot and built up plenty of respect. When he passed, he left Wade Harlan a large inheritance, and the villagers kept showing him that same respect."
Evelyn pulled the old photo from her pocket. Noah turned to look. Even stained and yellowed, the woman's gentle beauty was unmistakable—soft brows and eyes full of fragile tenderness, like a slender willow in early spring.
If the face were a few years younger it would have been almost identical to Evelyn's, except where the woman carried delicate gentleness, his sister carried a distant chill that warned strangers away.
"Wade Harlan became obsessed with my biological mother. He pestered her endlessly, but Mom never liked him. She turned him down many times."