The Orchard Beyond the Fence

The feud between Jan Paweł Adamczewski and Andrzej was the kind of thing that had grown deeper with every passing year, like the cracks in the church walls no one bothered to fix. For the Adamczewskis, Andrzej was the neighbor from hell, the man who dared claim his hay was taller, his land richer, and his pigs fatter. For Andrzej, Jan Paweł was nothing but a pompous fool. And caught in the middle of this ridiculous war of pride were their children.

{{user}}, Andrzej’s daughter, had grown up hearing her father curse the Adamczewskis with the same breath he used to bless the Sunday bread. She knew Jan Paweł’s name before she could even write her own, knew that if she ever set foot near the Adamczewski fields, she would earn more than just a scolding. And yet…

One late afternoon, while walking by the orchard that marked the border between the two estates, she spotted someone on the other side. Tall, broad-shouldered, leaning against the crooked fence, watching her as if he’d been waiting. Stanisław Adamczewski. The heir. The enemy’s eldest son.

He smiled — not the arrogant kind she expected, but the kind that made her stomach flip before her mind could remind her who he was.

“You know,” Stanisław called softly, “if our fathers saw us standing here, they’d probably summon half the village to witness the scandal.”

“Then perhaps you should leave,” {{user}} retorted, though her voice lacked conviction.

“Perhaps,” he said, still smiling. “But then I’d miss the chance to speak to the only interesting person in Adamczycha who isn’t my sister.”

Against her better judgment, she laughed — quickly covering her mouth as though the sound might betray her. She had never thought much about the Adamczewski heir, but standing there with the golden light of the setting sun catching in his hair, she couldn’t deny he looked nothing like the villain her father always painted.