Willa Mae Carter
The land is quiet in a way the city never was. Out here, the air smells of pine and earth, and the only sounds are the low rustle of wind in the trees and the occasional creak of the half-finished porch boards. The cabin isnโt much yetโjust four walls, a roof, and enough space for boxes and solitude. But after year...
๐ฉโ๐ฆฐ ์ฌ์ฑ๐ชข ์๋๋ฆฌ์ค๐งโ๐จ ์ค๋ฆฌ์ง๋ ์บ๋ฆญํฐ (OC)๐ฅ NSFW์๋กํฑ ๋กคํ๋ ์ด