Chapter 1
Maisie Grace Fields was lucky.
She never thought something like this could ever happen to her—she assumed she would be working at Joja Corp. for the rest of her sad little life, churning out lifeless advertisements drained of creativity to meet the company's soul-sucking standards. She thought she'd waste away in her cubicle, subject to the whims of her rotten manager, like some prisoner bound to the hum of fluorescent lights that never dimmed, never flickered, never gave her a moment's peace.
The plants on her desk would inevitably wilt, but her generous, steadily increasing paycheck would keep her distracted until Joja couldn't keep up with inflation anymore. By the time she turned forty, Maisie Grace figured she'd be head of the advertising department, pulling in 1,000,000G a year in a society where rent for a crappy Zuzu City apartment would cost 200,000G a month.
She could see it all so clearly—the faux accolades, the empty promotions, the suffocating success.
She was dreaming again, though Maisie Grace could barely label the thoughts as dreams anymore. The endless hours she spent staring at the faint blue glow of her outdated Windows computer had turned her brain to mush, and the Joja branding she worked on every day had somehow drained her thoughts of even more color, leaving them a dull, corporate azure—if that was even possible.
But, like the letter she now held in her hands, Maisie Grace had discovered that many things she once thought impossible were, in fact, entirely possible.
Come to find out, Maisie Grace wasn't the heir to a nightmare corporate job after all.
She was the heir to Berrybliss Farm in Stardew Valley.
She couldn't believe she hadn't opened this letter sooner. She couldn't believe this goldmine of an opportunity had sat hidden in the bottom drawer of her desk for three whole years while she'd been breaking her back convincing fellow office drones to buy things they didn't need. It was almost funny—no, it was funny. Ironic, even. A promise like this, quietly thriving in the heart of her dead-end corporate cubicle, while she was barely surviving.
Maisie Grace could do it. She could quit her job at Joja right then and there, buy a one-way ticket to Stardew Valley, and never look back.
She wanted to. Yoba, did she want to. It would be so easy.
Nothing in her apartment was worth keeping, anyway. She already had her favorite jacket on, her locket was safe around her neck That was all she would need. That was all she would take.
There was one problem: Noah Walters hated the countryside.
"You can't be serious," Noah scoffed, a disbelieving laugh tumbling out of him. He leaned back against the couch, arms crossed like he had already won. "Move? Away from this?" He gestured around their apartment with a dramatic flourish. Sure, it was nice. Sure, Maisie Grace had lucked into one of the better places in Zuzu City. But that didn't mean it was enough.
"Noah, you know how bored I am here," Maisie Grace pleaded, trailing after him as he started pacing the room like a caged animal. "It's—gray! Everything here is gray, except for Joja, which is that horrible, artificial blue! I can't do this anymore. It's like I'm suffocating!"
Noah sighed, dragging his hands through his hair. He didn't even look at her. "You're bored? Get a hobby, Mais. Start running, pick up crocheting, plant a window box—hell, I don't care what you do! Just stop complaining all the damn time!"
"I'm not complaining, Noah! I'm reasoning with you, trying to have a real conversation! But you won't even listen because you're too fucking stubborn—"
"I'm stubborn?" Noah cut her off, his voice rising. His laugh was sharp and bitter now, a knife-edge of mockery. "You're the one insisting we uproot our entire lives to move to some godforsaken farm in the middle of nowhere! Do you even realize how dangerous that is, Mais? People get killed in places like that—"
"Don't be ridiculous," Maisie Grace snapped, her voice cracking with frustration. "You don't want to go because you're afraid. Afraid of change, afraid of losing your precious healthcare job with 'travel benefits' that leave you twiddling your thumbs all day because you never finished your degree!"
The words were out before she could stop herself. The silence that followed was deafening.
Noah froze, his mouth opening like he was about to throw out another quip, but nothing came. For once, he was speechless. Maisie Grace knew she had cut too deep, hit the sore spot he tried to hide under his bravado. But for the first time in their relationship, she didn't care.
She had already decided. Nothing—no apartment nor inferiority complex—could keep her here anymore.
"It's a good job, Mais," Noah said finally, his voice quieter, almost shaky. "You have a good job. You have a good life. I just don't get it. Why would you want to throw all of this away? Why can't you see how lucky you are?"
Maisie Grace faltered, searching for the words to explain what he could never seem to understand. How could she make him see that Zuzu City wasn't her paradise? It was his. Every day she spent here made her feel smaller, emptier. Numb.
"What happens," Noah pressed on, "when you move to this—what's it called? Sprout Valley?—and get bored in five years? Then what? You won't be able to leave then. You'll have nothing. You'll have nobody."
There it was again. The guilt. The same guilt Noah always pulled out when he didn't get what he wanted. He knew exactly where to press, exactly which parts of her to tug at until she bent back into place.
"You won't come with me?" Maisie Grace asked, her voice trembling and small. She hated how desperate it sounded.
Noah scoffed like the question itself was ridiculous. His confidence returned, and with it, his arrogance. "How could I? I'm not like you, Mais. I don't just drop everything and run off to some fantasy. I'm realistic. I'm grounded. I like my life here."
"Well, good for you, Noah," Maisie Grace said coldly. "Good thing everything is so perfect for you. Good thing you feel like you belong here."
"Yoba, quit acting like a victim, Maisie Grace!" Noah snapped, his voice rising again. He pointed at her like an accusation. "You're so fortunate to be here, with me! Where would you be without me? If I hadn't gotten you that job at Joja, you'd have nothing! Certainly not a place like this."
Maisie Grace laughed without humor. "Maybe I would've moved to Stardew Valley sooner," she shot back. "Maybe I wouldn't have wasted three years being fucking miserable."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and final. Noah opened his mouth, but this time, Maisie Grace didn't wait to hear what he had to say.
Maisie Grace turned on her heel, not caring that Noah was right behind her, trailing her all the way to their room. What did she need to pack? Nothing, honestly—as she'd already decided. Still, a few changes of clothes wouldn't hurt. T-shirts and shorts mostly, and some sweaters and pants for when it got cold. And what would she even wear for working in the field? Maisie Grace had one pair of overalls, and she threw it into her suitcase without a second thought.
She could survive with just the tennis shoes on her feet, but she tossed in a pair of sandals for good measure. Hair products? Makeup? Minimal, she decided. Just enough to be presentable, not enough to impress anyone. Not that there'd be anyone to impress in Stardew Valley.
Noah stayed silent as Maisie Grace hastily packed her bag, but she could feel his gaze boring into her every move. Whatever. Fuck him. He was mad because he didn't get his way, not because he cared. That's what she told herself, at least. It was easier to turn him into the villain than to think about the possibility of missing him.
The truth, though, was that Maisie Grace wasn't as sure of herself as she seemed. Her confidence was a thin, trembling facade. What did she even know about Berrybliss Farm? She had no idea what was left of the place. It could be crumbling into nothing for all she knew. She didn't know who lived in the town nearby, or whether they even needed another farmer. Would they appreciate a newcomer, or would she be another outsider to tolerate?
But her grandparents had lived there their whole lives. They'd been happy.
Maisie Grace pictured her grandmother, young and rebellious, leaving behind her white-collar life in Zuzu City just as Maisie Grace was now. The family story went that her grandmother had stormed out of the house one evening, yelling something dramatic like, "But Daddy, I love him!" before slamming the door and running straight to her future husband.
Maisie Grace could scream that, sure. But her version would sound more like, "But Noah, I hate it here!" And she'd already made her case.
She didn't bother looking Noah in the eye as she brushed past him in the doorway. She didn't bother stopping once on her way to the front door, pausing only briefly to debate whether to turn the handle or turn around. Her hand settled on the former.
"Mais," Noah pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maisie Grace. Don't leave me. I love you."
Yoba, she was moving away, not dying. Still, Maisie Grace hesitated, her hand resting on the cool metal of the doorknob.
"I thought we were gonna get married," Noah continued, his voice cracking. "I thought we were gonna be happy."
Maisie Grace squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't dare turn around. He couldn't see her upset. She couldn't see him upset. What was she even thinking? How could she leave him like this?
No. Her decision was made. Letter in her hand and not a look back, Maisie Grace muttered, "Goodbye, Noah," as she pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway.
What had she gotten herself into?
It was far too late to wonder now, and—shit, was it New Year's Eve? So much for the nice dinner she'd planned with Noah.
"Stupid letter," she muttered, kicking at the gravel underfoot as her suitcase rattled along behind her. "Stupid farm. Stupid Grandpa. Why couldn't I just stay miserable here forever? Why did he have to give me such a good reason to leave?"
Her last thought was silent, buried beneath her bitterness: Why couldn't Noah come with me?
"One ticket, please," Maisie Grace said to the attendant as she pulled up to the bus stop. She glanced down at the letter in her hand to double-check the name of the town closest to her farm in Stardew Valley. "Pelican Town. Uh—one way."
The woman behind the booth didn't say a word. She tapped loudly on the keyboard, her long nails clicking against the keys, before tearing a ticket from the printer. The motion was brisk, almost robotic, as if people were clamoring to head to Stardew Valley every day. Maisie Grace slipped her 100G under the glass divider, the crisp bills exchanged for her restart—printed on a flimsy piece of paper.
ZUZU CITY TRANSPORT COMPANY
BUS TICKET
TO: PELICAN TOWN
ONE-WAY
And just like that, it was real.
The bus itself looked like it had seen better days, its once-bright blue paint faded into a dull, patchy hue. A faint smell of motor oil lingered in the air as Maisie Grace stepped aboard, dragging her suitcase behind her. The driver, an older woman with a warm smile and a baseball cap pulled low over her gray hair, greeted her like they were old friends.
"Headin' to Pelican Town?" the driver asked, glancing at the ticket.
"Yeah," Maisie Grace replied, swallowing hard as she tried to steady herself. "First time."
"Well, you're in for a treat," the driver said, her smile widening. "That place is a little slice of paradise. You're lucky to be going there. Not many folks do, you know."
Maisie Grace managed a faint smile, unsure of what to say. She nodded and moved to a seat near the window, tucking her bag under her feet.
The bus was mostly empty, with only two other passengers. One was a man dressed entirely in black, complete with a bowler hat and dark sunglasses, who didn't seem to notice her presence. The other was an older woman with kind eyes—though they carried a deep sadness that Maisie Grace felt from across the aisle. Neither of them spoke.
As the bus pulled away, the city's towering gray skyline began to shrink into the distance, replaced by rolling hills and wide, open skies that Maisie Grace could hardly believe were real. Her phone buzzed in her lap, and she ignored it at first, knowing exactly who it would be.
Noah.
She kept her eyes on the changing scenery, trying to focus on anything but the ache in her chest. The soft hum of the bus and the music playing in her headphones distracted her for a while, but as the sky grew darker, her mind began to wander. She couldn't resist the pull of her phone any longer.
The notifications from Noah stared back at her:
7:02 PM: Baby, please don't do this.
7:10 PM: Where ru?
7:46 PM: Mais, please quit the act and come home. I miss you.
8:09 PM: I love you. I'm waiting. I promise I won't be mad.
8:30 PM: U ok?
10:43 PM: Maisie Grace, seriously respond. I'm worried.
Maisie Grace sighed, leaning her head against the cold glass of the window. The messages blurred in her vision, the ache in her chest growing heavier. If she didn't reply, Noah might actually call the police, convinced something had happened to her. But replying meant opening the floodgates—an endless stream of texts and calls, the guilt-tripping and pleading she knew too well.
She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the screen. Finally, she tapped out a response:
10:58 PM: I'm fine. Quit texting me.
She hit send before she could second-guess herself, tossing her phone into her bag and burying it beneath her sweater. Maisie Grace closed her eyes, letting the bus's gentle rhythm carry her into the unknown.
She woke up to the bus slowing down, her body jolting forward slightly as the brakes squealed. Maisie Grace blinked groggily, glancing across the aisle at the windows on the opposite side of the bus. The view outside was dim, illuminated only by a single streetlight casting its weak glow over the rural path. She squinted, trying to place the surroundings. She had never been here before—or had she?
If this was Pelican Town, then she had been here a few times. Years ago.
"What should we name the new chick, Maisie Grace?" Grandpa had asked, holding her on his hip with one arm while spreading fresh hay in the coop with the other.
"Daisy!" she had exclaimed with all the certainty of a five-year-old. "Because daisies are my favorite!"
Her grandpa chuckled, a deep, warm sound that seemed to fill the air around them. "Why, are they?" he asked playfully. "How did I miss that, little Daisy Maisie?"
Maisie Grace giggled along with him, the summer breeze ruffling her brown pigtails. "I told you! A billion times!"
"Arrived in Pelican Town," the bus driver's voice called, cutting through Maisie Grace's reverie. She snapped back to the present, her heart pounding slightly at the sudden change in reality.
She stood quickly, her legs stiff from the hours of sitting. Grabbing her suitcase with more force than she intended, she half-stumbled down the bus aisle and onto the dirt path below, the cool night air hitting her face like a splash of water.
And just like that, Maisie Grace was truly alone.
No fellow bus passengers with their own skeletons. No bustling city pedestrians with their headphones and hurried strides. No Noah, with his endless stubbornness and empty reassurances.
Maisie Grace took a deep breath, the crisp country air filling her lungs. This will not be a bad choice, she told herself firmly. This will be the best choice I've ever made.
But first, she had to figure out where the farm was.
The path before her was shrouded in darkness, save for the faint lights of Pelican Town to her left, where the dirt road transitioned into cobblestone and the faint flicker of lanterns hinted at life. She glanced down at the letter in her hand and turned right instead, toward the forest. Toward Berrybliss Farm.
Her suitcase immediately decided it wanted no part of this journey, being completely helpless by catching on every bump and rock along the uneven dirt road. Maisie Grace tugged it stubbornly, muttering under her breath as the wheels protested with loud, grating noises. Fortunately, the farm wasn't as far from the bus stop as she feared. Within five minutes, she was standing on the porch of her new home.
Or rather, her old home.
Maisie Grace set her suitcase down and stared at the house. The wood was weathered and chipped, the porch creaked under her weight, and the windows were dark and uninviting. It was nothing like she remembered from those carefree summer visits as a child when it used to be warm and smelled like fresh fruit. But it was hers now.
Fumbling through her bag, she found the letter---and tucked inside it, the keys to the farmhouse. Her fingers trembled slightly as she inserted the key into the lock. To her surprise, the door opened on the first try.
The air inside was stale and heavy with the scent of dust and time, not like summer fruits. Maisie Grace fumbled for the light switch and flicked it on—nothing. She let out a small sigh. Of course. The utilities were probably long disconnected. She would have to find the mayor in the morning to sort everything out.
Carefully, she navigated the house by touch, her fingers brushing against familiar walls and furniture, though the once-vibrant memories felt faded now, like an old photograph.
She found the bedroom by instinct, her body remembering its way through the darkness even if her mind felt distant. The bed was just as her grandpa left it—old and lumpy but somehow comforting in its familiarity. Maisie Grace collapsed onto it without even pulling back the covers. She stared at the ceiling, unable to see it in the pitch-black room.
No guilt, she told herself, closing her eyes. No guilt of any kind.