One more hard week. That's all Maeve MacKenzie tells herself she needs.The first Honeycrisp of the season snaps clean in her hand, and it's already gone wrong.Bitter pit. Not enough calcium in the soil, or too much August rain, or the trees just getting old, like everything else on this farm.The sorting line is held together with duct tape and Eli's stubbornness.The health inspector comes at ten.And her brother Liam shows up half an hour late in pressed khakis, already somewhere else, already done with the orchard their family bled into the ground.Maeve has spent her whole life keeping this place alive.Through the year the tractor threw a rod.Through the winter the pipes nearly froze.Through every season she swore would be the last.But there is a lie buried in this soil, older than the bitter pit, older than the mortgage.A truth about the land, the family, and a choice that was made before Maeve was old enough to stop it.And when it finally surfaces, it threatens to take the orchard, the family, and the only version of herself she's ever known."You should have sold this place years ago," Liam tells her. "You're not saving it. You're just drowning slower."The lawsuit lands.The town turns.The harvest won't wait, and neither will the people who want what her family has held for three generations.Maeve has protected this secret so long she's forgotten it was ever a wound.Now it's the only thing standing between her and losing everything.She has to decide what home is worth, when holding on is costing her the rest of her life.And whether the truth she's guarded for so long might finally be the thing that sets her free.The Leaving Season is a quietly devastating family saga about the weight of home, inheritance and sacrifice, sibling rivalry, a long-buried secret, and a reckoning years in the making.Perfect for readers who love literary family dramas, rural and small-town fiction, slow-burning secrets, complicated siblings, and stories about land, loss, and belonging. A standalone novel with a hard-earned, resonant ending.