The alarm clock’s shrill cry pierced through our bedroom at 5:30 AM, just like it had every morning for the past three years. I reached across the bed to silence it before it could wake Jake, but my hand found only empty sheets and the lingering warmth of where he’d been sleeping. Through the thin walls of our rental house, I could hear him already moving arouSelling it had felt like amputating a limb, but Jake had convinced me it was necessary for our family’s future. The $95,000 we’d received from the sale, combined with the $43,000 I’d managed to save from my bookkeeping business over the past two years, would provide the capital Jake needed to purchase equipment, livestock, and the first year’s operating expenses for our farm.
“I’ve been ready for months,” I said, pouring myself coffee and trying to keep the exhaustion out of my voice. “I just want to make sure you’re still as committed to this as you were when I started liquidating my life to pay for it.”
Jake stood up and moved toward me with the easy confidence that had first attracted me to him nine years earlier. He placed his hands on my shoulders, looking directly into my eyes with the intensity that made his promises feel sacred.nd in the kitchen, probably making his morning coffee and checking his phone for whatever agricultural newsletters he subscribed to these days.
