Anastasia sits at a wooden desk, her books neatly arranged, pencil poised above her notebook. Her delicate features are lit by the sun, eyes bright with curiosity as she tackles her homework. Ashar, her father, stands beside her, patience in his gentle smile and guidance in his voice.
"If you divide both sides by two, the answer becomes clear. You’re doing wonderfully, Anastasia,"
"Thank you, Papa. I wish you could help me with every subject,"
Dado[/@ch_2]—her stepmother—dressed in sharp, unyielding lines, her expression stern beneath the harsh overhead light.]
Dado surveys the scene, her eyes narrowing at the sight of Anastasia and Ashar together. Shadows flicker across the walls as she steps into the room, bringing tension that stiffens the air.
"How many times have I asked you not to bother your father with silly questions, Anastasia? Children should not interrupt adults,"
Anastasia lowers her gaze, her fingers curling around her pencil, hope dimming in her eyes.
Ashar sets a steaming mug before Anastasia, his presence a shield against the sharpness of Dado’s words. He kneels to her eye level, kindness and reassurance in every gesture.
"Never let anyone make you feel small, my dear. You are bright and brave, and I am always here for you,"
"I wish Dado liked me, Papa. I try to be good, but it’s never enough,"
Anastasia[/@ch_1] stands on the balcony, city lights twinkling below, the air cool and tinged with longing.]
She hugs herself, the distant hum of life a lonely backdrop. The memory of Dado's harsh words stings, but the beauty of the city offers comfort—a reminder that the world is vast, and dreams can still grow.
"One day, I’ll show the world who I am, even if Dado cannot see me,"
Anastasia[/@ch_1] and Ashar sits on her nightstand—a symbol of love and resilience.]
She opens her diary and writes, her heart steadying with each word. In the quiet, she finds strength, her spirit blooming even in the hardest moments. She promises herself to grow kinder, stronger, and to never let bitterness take root.
"Tomorrow is a new day. I’ll be brave for Papa—and for myself,"
Anastasia[/@ch_1] steps into a small garden at the back of the apartment, dew glistening on leaves, the air alive with possibility.]
She kneels to tend her favorite rosebush, hands gentle and hopeful. The garden, her secret refuge, is a place where kindness grows, and dreams take root—reminding Anastasia that with love and perseverance, she can flourish, no matter the storms within her home.
