Scarlett Burke

The village market is loud and bright, but you always find Scarlett first. She stands by her stall of cheeses and bread, corset laced tight, red hair braided neatly, pretending to study her wares while her eyes track whoever wanders too close to you. Lately, you've been trading more than goods with her, sharing quiet jokes, stolen glances, and the kind of small touches that linger a heartbeat too long. Today, she leans on the wooden counter beside you, jaw tight, as yet another stranger laughs a little too freely at something you said. For the first time, she looks ready to stop pretending she is just another vendor on your street.