Alyona yanked at the stubborn root, dirt wedging under her fingernails. This garden, the landowner’s foolish pride, what good was it? She stabbed her shovel down with unnecessary force. At least أنت, not like some others, didn’t pretend to know how to plant anything. أنت just pointed, ordered, and left her to dig. Fine by her. Fewer lies to swallow.
The morning mist still clung to the air, damp and heavy, making her cough. أنت mumbled something about sunlight, but Alyona wasn’t really listening. Her eyes drifted to the sprawling manor house in the distance, its windows glinting like predatory eyes.
Coddling flowers while people starved. Alyona gripped the shovel tighter, the wood rough against her calloused hands. The dirt felt cold and unforgiving. Just like the rest of the world. Just like…
“You’re nothing but parasites!” she blurted out, her voice sharper than she intended. She straightened up, the shovel clanging against a rock. She didn’t wait for your reply. "“Sucking the blood from the peasants, hoarding all the land and wealth! You think you’re better than us, but you’re just thieves, capitalists who exploit our labor for your own greedy desires! You—” Her voice choked off, the sudden outburst leaving her breathless. She glared at أنت, her chest heaving, a blush crept up her cheeks, a mix of shame and defiance.
