Married to the vegetative prince

er breath formed fog in the icy air above the thin blanket covering her. For a fleeting moment, she

, her voice barely breaking the sti

muscles protested, still tight and sore from the cold and the laborous day before. She tilt

greeted

air biting at her hands. I need to fix this tear soon, she thought, rubbing her thumb over

cramped room, wincing as a floorboard creake

voice sliced through the quiet. "J

one steady and respectful despite the accusati

room. "Make sure you do. Those tom

" Jane echoed, ho

from behind the closed door: "And make sure you don't mess up

ne called back softly, her heart

Mother always said, Jane reminded herself. Kindness costs nothing, but its value is i

nt door, ready to face another long day of hard labor, her quiet

d pulled her thin shawl tighter around her shoulders as she made her way to the tomato fields. Th

ng blue eyes scanning the shadowy rows. "Another day, another cha

eling the vines for ripe fruit. The familiar ache in her hands surfa

, Jane's thoughts drifted to happier memories. "Mother would ha

r. Jane's basket gradually filled, each tomato placed carefully to avoid bruisi

ose who have it much worse." She paused to flex her aching fingers.

ildflowers from beyond the fields. Closing her eyes, Jane savored the moment. "No," she finally whispere

etermination that burned deep within. The sun rose higher, casting a golden glow over the

rning sun now shone brightly overhead, casting long shadows across the yard, providing little warmth for her chill

d through the air. Her cold, critical gaze swept over Ja

ely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Aun

. She rifled through the tomatoes, her lips curling in disdain. "Ha

s I could find," Jane stamm

and start breakfast. And don't think you

tightly to her chest. The oppressive atmosphere of the house enveloped her as s

ng embers in the hearth. As she worked, her stomach growled loudly

es drifting longingly towards the pantry. But she knew better than to r

ter days. "Mother used to make the most delicious apple tarts," she recalled, a fain

k to reality. She hurried, eager to have everything read

gure filled the doorway. His weathered face wore its usual scowl

s down her spine. "Where's my breakfast? Can't even

harsh gaze. "I-It's almost ready, Uncle Pat," she stammered,