A wealthy woman arrived at my farm, claiming she wanted to buy it, as if she could just take it over without a second thought. Turning down her offer wasn’t just a decision; it was a defense of my family’s heritage. Her self-assured smirk told me this wasn’t over.
The early morning air was fragrant with the aroma of freshly tilled soil and wildflowers. The farm was an expanse of rolling fields touched by the first light of dawn. Every inch of it carried memories—like my father hammering in the first fencepost or my mother planting lilacs near the barn.
Then, a noise interrupted the stillness. A car engine. It wasn’t the familiar sound of my brother Steven’s old sedan. I squinted to see a sleek, black car elegantly making its way down the dirt road. “Great,” I muttered under my breath.
Then she appeared—a tall and elegant woman looking as if she came from some other world. Her suit was a testament to her wealth, and her perfectly styled hair seemed immune to the gentle breeze.
“Are you the owner of this farm?” Her voice sliced through the air, skipping any attempt at small talk.
“Yes. Why?”
“I am Sophia. I own the surrounding properties. I’m here to buy yours.”
“It’s not for sale.”
“Not for sale?” she mused. “When my resort opens, this… farm will be worthless.”
“It’s my family’s land.”
She scoffed. “Sentimental and stubborn. What a combination. We’re not finished here.” Her car door slammed, and she sped off, leaving a trail of dust.
The next morning, I expected to start my day with the usual peaceful farm chores. Instead, chaos reigned: chickens fled, squawking, and goats seemed determined to jump over every fence in sight.
Then I spotted her—Sophia—teetering on a ladder by the barn, her hands busy with an old shutter, dressed in a way that no one should be around a farm.
“What are you doing up there?” I called as I got closer.
“Improving the aesthetic!” she yelled without even glancing my way.
The ladder wobbled dangerously. “Sophia…”
She fell in a whirl of expensive fabric. I rushed over, kneeling at her side. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes opened slowly, but their vacant gaze unsettled me. “Who… are you?” she whispered.
At the hospital, the doctor asked if we were related. After a moment’s hesitation, I found myself saying, “Yes, she’s my sister.” It wasn’t true, but somehow it felt like fate intervening, showing her a different life.
Sophia’s lost eyes met mine, and I convinced her she was staying with me and Steven on the farm.
On our way back, a faint, self-amused smile crept across my face. I’d gotten myself into a situation.
Her first real day on the farm began with optimism but quickly turned chaotic. “Okay, Sophia, it’s simple to milk a cow,” I explained, but her manicured nails and disbelieving eyes told me she was out of her comfort zone.
A bucket that stayed empty after groans and struggles marked our milking session. “The cow is mocking me with her smug mooing!
