Beneath the Country Sky

Chapter 1: Exiled to Isolation

The countryside breeze was cold against Scarlette's skin, but she didn't care. She stood in front of her grandmother's large farmhouse, gazing out at the expansive land that stretched far beyond what her eyes could see. The sun was high, scorching her forehead, but she barely noticed. One eyebrow was raised in disdain as she took in the sight of the sprawling fields-the mango trees at the edge, the grazing carabaos, and the distant bleating of sheep. Annoying.

"What did my grandmother ever see in this place? Why do I have to stay here?" she muttered under her breath, taking a long sip from the bottle of whiskey she'd been nursing since she left Manila.

Returning to the hacienda was never part of her plan. She hated the countryside-the smell, the quiet, the endless green fields. She wasn't used to this kind of life. Her career had been everything to her, but when the media found out about her affair with a well-known actor-who happened to be married-her entire life fell apart. She became the headline of every gossip column, the subject of every talk show.

Her career was dead, and so was her sense of control.

Now she was stuck here, exiled, as her former peers would say. She couldn't stand the pitying looks from the people in the industry, so she left. But now that she was here, she couldn't stand the life her grandmother, Victoria, had prepared for her. To Scarlette, it felt more like a punishment than a sanctuary.

"Scarlette!" Her grandmother's voice called sharply from inside the house, filled with concern and disapproval. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop drinking?"

"Lola," Scarlette rolled her eyes, turning away from the farmhouse window and raising her bottle in the air, "Relax. I can handle myself."

But the truth was, she wasn't sure if she could. She felt like she was rotting in this place, like something that had been discarded and left in a remote corner where no one would see. So, she drowned herself in whiskey and arrogance, the only two things that seemed to keep her afloat.

Sometimes she laughed at herself, sometimes she cried, but now, she just felt... nothing. She stepped off the porch of the farmhouse, her heels clacking loudly against the worn wooden floorboards as she made her way to the back, whiskey still in hand.

"Act like a lady, Scarlette, for once," she heard her grandmother's final plea, but she didn't bother replying.

She wandered down the dusty path leading away from the house, her vision blurring slightly with each step. Around her, the scenery of the countryside greeted her: towering trees, vast stretches of grasslands, and the sounds of the farm animals-the grunts of the carabaos, the bleating of sheep that seemed to never stop. Even the birds' songs from the branches above offered no solace to her. It was all too quiet. Too boring.

She felt a slight dizziness but kept walking. Every step on the ground felt like she was sinking deeper into a place she didn't want to be. Eventually, she lost track of where she was, and before she knew it, she collapsed onto the grass, her eyes closing as the world spun around her.

When Scarlette opened her eyes, she wasn't in her room or even at her grandmother's hacienda. Instead, she was lying in a small, old house that smelled of wood and cooking food. For a moment, she was disoriented, unsure of where she was or how she had gotten there. A dull throbbing in her head reminded her of the whiskey, and she groaned.

She glanced around, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, and saw a man standing by the doorway, watching her.

"Good morning, Miss Obnoxious," the man greeted her sarcastically. He had a smirk on his face that wasn't kind-more mocking than anything else.