The girl with a dark birthmark that spread across one side of her face and neck married a farmer man who was known to be big, slow, and rough. People did not know about their married life until….

The bus rattled down the gravel road, its windows streaked with dust as the late summer sun slanted across the fields. Clara pressed her thin hands against her lap, clutching a small cloth bag that carried her few belongings. At thirty-one, she had long accepted that she was considered “unmarriageable” in her town.

Not because she lacked grace—Clara’s delicate cheekbones and thoughtful eyes hinted at a quiet beauty. But since childhood, a dark birthmark had spread across one side of her face and neck, a stain that made her the subject of constant whispers. Neighbors smirked, children pointed, and adults shook their heads with pity.

“You’re lucky anyone would want you at all,” her aunt had hissed that morning. “Mr. Harold may not be a prince, but he has land, steady work, and he’s willing. This is your chance to stop being a burden.”

Clara said nothing, but the words cut. She had spent years helping in her aunt’s shop, living under the shadow of ridicule, believing her only value was silence. Now, she was being “sent” to marry a man she had never met—a farmer with a reputation for being large, slow, and unrefined.

When the bus ground to a halt before a small farmhouse, Clara’s heart raced. She stepped down, her figure slender as a reed, her pale dress clinging in the summer air. Standing in the yard was a stout man with sandy hair and round glasses that slid down his nose. His shirt strained against his belly, and his cheeks flushed easily, giving him the look of a man more at home in the field than in town gatherings.

“Miss Clara?” His voice was warm, careful. “I’m Harold Turner. Welcome.”