Writing Stardew Valley Fan Novel Series
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Gamer1234556
Farmhand
Chapter 7.5 – Emily
It felt like today was going to be another day.Another shift at the Saloon, another evening of wiping counters, smiling through Pam’s rants, managing Shane’s mood swings.
At least Eric’s company usually made things tolerable.
But ever since the mines opened, he'd been avoiding me.
People said he was involved in an accident, but Shane kept brushing it off as if it was nothing.
I wanted to check on him… but every time I tried, something pulled me back.
Work.
Customers.
Shane’s jealous looks.
And now it was Lewis’s birthday — normally a cheerful night — but even that felt strangely heavy today.
Gus had baked a small chocolate cake — he kept glancing at it from the back kitchen, waiting for enough people to arrive so the moment wouldn’t feel awkward.
The smell drifted through the Saloon, warm and sweet.
Under different circumstances, it would’ve made me smile.
Instead, it only tightened the uneasy knot in my stomach.
Gus tried. He really did.
“Hey, uh…” he began gently. “You doing alright, Lewis? The cake’s on the house tonight, if you want it early.”
Lewis exhaled like the air itself had weight.
“No… I’m not hungry.”
Gus paused mid–glass wipe.
That was bad.
Lewis always humoured Gus on birthdays, even when things were rough.
“It must be rough," Gus said quietly, “having to trust your best friend’s kid with the… mess you inherited.”
Lewis didn’t look up.
“I thought I was ready for this job,” he murmured. “It was either me or George. And nobody liked George.”
Gus’s shoulders slumped in sympathy.
“Yeah… this town isn’t easy to lead. Not when you’ve got no support.”
Lewis swallowed.
“I really thought trusting Joja would help. But now they’re pushing me again — pressing me to sell them the Community Center.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
Joja never stopped.
Once they got a foothold, they just kept digging.
Gus clenched his jaw.
“Yep. That sounds exactly like them.”
Lewis rubbed his face, exhausted.
You could almost see the emotional gears turning — frustration sliding into guilt, then slipping into fear.
“I feel like I gave Eric an impossible task,” he said quietly. “I showed him the Community Center, and he told me he saw… green cubes. Floating.”
He shook his head. “I thought he hit his head too hard in the mines, but the way he reacted… it seemed real.”
Gus blinked.
“Green cubes?”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
No one ever believed me when I talked about things like that.
Especially Shane.
He always rolled his eyes, muttered something about “hippie nonsense,” and changed the subject.
But Lewis?
Lewis wasn’t the type to invent things.
“He kept insisting,” Lewis continued. “And then, after he said it, he changed. Like he was hiding something.”
The sweet smell of the birthday cake shifted in the air again as Gus moved it closer to the counter, hopeful.
It did nothing to calm me.
If anything, it made the dread heavier.
Eric… what happened to you?
Gus tried to brush it off.
“Maybe Eric’s just stressed. Or tired. And the Wizard? Come on, he’s just some cranky old hermit who plays with potions. I doubt he’s doing anything suspicious.”
But Lewis didn’t nod.
He stared at the counter like it held the truth.
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “But I… really hope Eric didn’t meet the Wizard.”
My heart stalled.
Lewis believed it.
Actually believed it.
Even Gus went still.
Lewis rubbed his temple.
“Whenever I’m around that man, it feels like he already knows it’s too late for Pelican Town. Like I already signed its death warrant.”
I glanced toward the Saloon door — reflexive, anxious.
Shane’s shift ended twenty minutes ago.
He’d walk in soon.
And when he did, he'd see me listening to this, absorbing this, worrying about Eric again.
I swallowed.
Please don’t come in yet.
Please.
Lewis straightened a little, trying to salvage the mood.
“At least Eric gave me a daffodil for my birthday,” he said with a weak smile, “Can’t go wrong with those.”
I actually felt myself smile softly.
Well… at least that part of him hasn’t changed.
But the knot in my stomach was still there.
Tightening.
Waiting for the door to swing open and Shane to storm in.
First Pam, then Leah, then Willy, then Harvey.
Then… Shane.
My whole body went cold. I kept my smile fixed in place, but inside, something twisted tight.
Gus practically vibrated with excitement.
“Right! Everyone is here! Let’s all come along for Lewis’s fifty-first birthday!” he said, lifting the cake we’d worked on since morning. I held the platter with him, the sugary scent drifting up between us. The warm smell should’ve soothed me — that buttery sweetness we’d saved as a surprise for Lewis — but instead it only tightened the knot in my stomach.
And then the chorus began.
“Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to our dear Mayor!
Happy birthday to you!
May dear Yoba bless you…”
I tried to feel happy. I wanted to. But I couldn’t. Not with Shane standing there, grumpy and unpredictable, and my nerves as thin as paper.
As the customers gathered around, Shane’s expression softened — barely — when he eyed the cake.
“Hey, Emily,” he said. “How’s it going?”
I exhaled. “It’s fine, Shane.”
“You know, this cake used a ton of eggs. From Marnie’s ranch. I really put my all into raising those hens.”
For a moment, it felt like I was talking to the Shane I wished he could be — steady, thoughtful, a version of him I sometimes believed still existed.
“Oh! You never told me that,” I said, happy to talk about anything neutral.
“Yeah… I was… I was a bit bitter these past few days because of endless shifts at Joja, but now I can finally breathe.”
Across the room, Lewis pierced his slice of cake with mechanical precision, face unreadable. The whole scene felt fragile, like one wrong sound could break it.
And then Shane mentioned Eric.
“You know the best thing about this? I don’t have to see that farmer again. I can finally spend time with you. Isn’t that great—”
And then it all shattered.
The door swung open and chilly night air swept in — along with Eric, holding an eel like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“W-what?” Shane stammered.
“Help Wanted stuff,” I muttered, sinking behind my hands.
Eric stepped forward. “Leah, your seaweed. Willy, your eel.”
The timing was so painfully absurd, I wanted to disappear behind the counter.
Shane laughed, but it was brittle. “Could you… not have chosen a better time for this?”
Harvey tried asking Eric about his injuries, but Leah quickly dragged him off with a glare. Eric grabbed a piece of cake, ate silently, then left. Just like that. Not a word to me.
“Huh. That’s odd,” Shane chuckled. “I thought he’d have more to say.”
Shane’s eyes flicked toward me, and my stomach tightened.
I knew that look.
I knew what was coming.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me. I know it’s something.”
Gus glanced over, worried. Pam looked seconds away from shouting. The air felt sharp, heavy.
Then Shane’s voice rose.
“Please don’t… please don’t tell me you developed feelings for him.”
He stepped forward like he might grab my arm — but Gus intercepted sharply.
“Shane, that’s enough.”
Shane blinked, shocked.
“You need to lower your voice. She’s at work, and you’re upsetting her. If you need to talk, do it outside — and do it respectfully.”
Shane’s jaw clenched. “You don’t know him like you think you do… Just stop hanging around him, okay? I don’t like it.”
He grumbled something under his breath and slunk back to his corner.
The party noise resumed, but everything felt off-kilter, hollow.
“Emily,” Gus called gently from behind me.
I turned. He was standing in the doorway of the Saloon, the warm light spilling out behind him.
“Sorry about what happened with Shane,” he said. “That was unacceptable of him to treat you like that.”
I stared at the ground. “It’s alright…”
“It’s not,” he said softly.
The sympathy in his voice made something tighten in my chest.
“You really didn’t want to be in this relationship, did you?”
I let out a long, tired sigh.
“Marnie approached me once… She said Shane had been depressed for days, and that having me as his dance partner — maybe even a temporary girlfriend — would cheer him up.”
Gus’s expression darkened with guilt.
“And instead,” I whispered, “it feels like he turned me into his therapist.”
He nodded slowly, eyes full of understanding.
“I think I can see why you reacted the way you did tonight. I wasn’t sure at first… but it’s starting to make sense.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You’re someone who listens to everyone else’s troubles,” Gus said gently. “But I don’t think anyone ever stops to listen to yours.”
He folded his arms, thoughtful.
“And someone like Eric… well, he does. He works hard — too hard, probably — but he truly means well. I can see why that matters to you.”
The words hit too close. My throat tightened.
I wanted to cry. I really did.
But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not standing here.
“If you want,” Gus offered softly, “I can talk to him. Let him know how you’re feeling.”
I shook my head, barely managing a breath.
“I don’t think that’s necessary. I… have a feeling he’ll come back on his own.”
Gus considered this, then nodded. “Alright. I hope it works out for you, Emily. Truly.”
He gave me a small wave before heading back inside.
I walked home.
The house felt too quiet without his voice — like the silence itself was pressing against my chest.
And then the tears came.
Eric… you aren’t talking to me.
Can you tell me what is going on?
I feel like I’m drowning here.
You’re the only one who listens.
Eric… I need you.
I don’t know why….
Stop pushing me away…