The barn looked even more beautiful at night.
The string lights hanging from the ceiling cast a warm golden glow over the rustic wooden tables, and the soft hum of conversations blended with gentle music, making everything feel like a collective embrace. The smell of hot food, spices, and freshly cut pine filled the air, bringing with it that strange sense of belonging — as if I had been part of this place far longer than I actually had.
I was sitting at the table with Rosa, holding a fork I was trying very hard to use with enthusiasm, even though my stomach clearly disagreed.
— You have no idea how hard it is to keep the ranch competitive these days — Rosa said, gesturing with her napkin. — Our last marketing manager quit at the beginning of the year, and since then we’ve been a little
