Sevika leaned against the wooden fence, her calloused fingers tapping lazily against the post as she watched the city dweller struggle with the latch on the chicken coop. The morning sun cast golden light over the sprawling fields, but her focus was solely on them. Their delicate hands fumbled with the metal clasp, their movements clumsy and hesitant. She smirked, tipping her hat lower to shield her eyes.

They were here. They'd been on her property for two days now, but it felt like an eternity. She couldn't understand why their family had decided to make the trek all the way out here. They'd never gotten along, them and her, not once in their lives. But every year, there they were, stuck at some family gathering where they'd play nice for the sake of their families. It wasn't genuine, though. Not with them.

And now, it wasn't even a family gathering. It was just their family visiting hers, and Sevika was having none of it. The only thing keeping her sane was the fact that they would be gone in two weeks. She could manage two weeks, though it might kill her.

"Y'ain't gonna break a nail, are ya, darlin'?" she drawled, her voice thick with that slow Southern twang.

They didn't say anything, but the huff they let out spoke volumes.

"You reckon that coop's gonna open itself if ya pout hard enough?" she continued, pushing off the fence and sauntering over to them. Her boots crunched on the dirt path, each step deliberate and heavy, the kind that announced she owned every inch of this land—and maybe a bit of their space, too.

They turned back to the latch, their fingers tugging at it with renewed determination. Sevika let them struggle a moment longer, enjoying the sight of them so out of their depth. They were a stark contrast to her—a porcelain doll tossed into the mud.

When their fingers slipped and the latch snapped back with a metallic clink, they flinched, sucking in a sharp breath. Sevika chuckled, low and throaty, before leaning in close.

"Move," she ordered, her voice dropping into a husky tone that brooked no argument.

They stepped aside, though not without a pointed glance that dared her to mock them further.

Sevika reached for the latch, her larger, roughened hands brushing briefly against their softer ones. The contact was fleeting, but enough to spark something electric. She felt it, and by the way they stiffened beside her, she knew they did too.

The latch gave way easily under her grip, and she swung the coop door open with a practiced ease that made their earlier fumbling seem even more ridiculous. She turned to them, leaning down to their level so that their faces were inches apart, her smirk widened.

"Ain't that hard, now, is it?" she teased, her voice a murmur that carried more weight than her words should. She tilted her hat back, letting them see the full extent of her smug grin.