UNBROKEN PROMISE

~24~ looming fears

The walk back to the house was quiet, the sound of their boots crunching against the gravel the only thing breaking the silence. The sky above was dark, speckled with stars, and the cool night air carried with it the faint scent of hay and earth. Logan walked a few steps behind Oma, his hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze fixed on her slender frame as she moved ahead of him. There was something about the way her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, the way her steps seemed hesitant, that made his chest tighten.

By the time they reached the porch, Logan had already decided he couldn't leave things unsaid. He wasn't the kind of man to fill the air with idle chatter, but there were moments when words needed to be spoken, no matter how uncomfortable they felt in his throat. He followed her inside, shutting the door behind them and pausing as she moved toward the stairs.

"Oma," he said, his voice low but firm, cutting through the stillness of the house. She stopped, turning back to look at him, her green eyes cautious but attentive.

Logan hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to gather his thoughts. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Jacob told me what happened at the bazaar," he said evenly, his blue eyes meeting hers. "Said there was some... trouble with one of the townsfolk. I just wanted to ask if you're alright."

Oma shrugged lightly, her gaze dropping to the floor as she fiddled with the edge of her shawl. "I'm fine," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm used to it, so... it doesn't really matter."

Logan's jaw tightened at her words, his hands clenching briefly at his sides before he forced himself to relax. He nodded slowly, taking in what she'd said, but the weight of it sat uncomfortably in his chest. "It does matter," he said after a moment, his voice firm but not unkind. "It matters a hell of a lot."

Oma glanced up at him, her brows knitting together in confusion. "Why?" she asked hesitantly. "People have been saying things like that to me my whole life. It's nothing new."

Logan stepped closer, his broad frame towering over her but his posture careful, deliberate. "Because," he said slowly, his eyes steady on hers, "you're my wife. You're my responsibility. And no one-no one-has the right to talk to you like that."

Oma's lips parted slightly in surprise, but she didn't say anything, her green eyes searching his face as if trying to understand his sudden intensity. Logan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he tried to put his thoughts into words.

"I'm proud of how you handled yourself," he said finally, his voice softer now but no less serious. "But if somethin' like that happens again-if anyone so much as thinks about sayin' somethin' like that to you-I'll take it to the town council myself. They've got no right to treat you that way, and I won't stand for it."

Oma shook her head quickly, her voice rising just slightly as she said, "That's not necessary, Logan. Really, it's fine. I don't want to cause trouble."

Logan let out a quiet, frustrated sigh, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as he shook his head. "It ain't fine, Oma," he said firmly. "And it is necessary. You deserve better than that. You don't have to let people walk all over you just because they think they've got the right."

Oma opened her mouth to protest, but Logan held up a hand, silencing her. "No more," he said, his voice brooking no argument. "You don't have to worry about it, alright? I'll handle it if it comes up again."

The room fell silent, the tension between them thick but not unkind. Logan could see the uncertainty in her eyes, the way she bit her lip as if trying to find the right words to say. But he didn't give her a chance to argue further.

"Go on upstairs," he said gently, nodding toward the staircase. "Get yourself to bed. You've had a long day."

Oma hesitated, her hands fidgeting slightly with the edge of her shawl. "I-"