Falling To Paradise

Anje had come to look forward to Meg’s visits every Monday. As soon as she heard the distant tinkling of her bell, she would rush out to greet Meg without even answering.

 

“Aunty, do you have any interesting stories for me today?”

 

“Well… oh, now that I think of it, I have a story about sugar.”

 

Chatterbox Meg would always regale Anje with one of Aiden’s embarrassing past stories each time she visited, finding it amusing to see Aiden’s futile attempts to stop her.

 

Staring at Anje, who was clutching he stomach and about to collapse from laughter, he asked,

 

“Aren’t you enjoying this too much?”

 

“But what can I do if it’s funny?”

 

There was the time he thought the ointment left in the refrigerator was jam and spread it generously on his bread, only to end up calling the doctor and causing a ruckus.

 

‘I tried to make him vomit by sticking my finger down his throat, but he bit it so hard because it hurt. I think the tooth mark lasted a month.’

 

Or the time he slid down a hill on a sled that wouldn’t stop, screaming like a banshee all the way down to the bottom.

TL/N: Banshee (in Irish legend) a female spirit whose wailing warns of a death in a house.

‘He hit three trees in a row and ended up buried in a snowdrift. The villagers mistook him for the Yeti when they saw him covered in snow.’

TL/N: The Yeti is an animal said to live in the Himalaya mountain range made of ice. People say they have seen it, but none have ever been caught. It is supposed to look like an ape that walks upright. Some body parts, said to be of a yeti, are kept in a few monasteries in the area.

 

ITS PIC:

 

Listening to his mishaps, Anje was relieved to know that she wasn’t the only one who did stupid things on this farm.

 

“You’ve had your fair share of accidents too, haven’t you?”

 

“Everyone has a childhood, don’t they?”

 

Anje reflected on her own childhood. It was true that she had once loved to play pranks.

 

Her father was indifferent to her, and none of the mansion’s servants dared to be strict with her. It could be seen as neglect, but at least she was free.

 

“Well, I guess so…”

 

But those good times were considerably shorter compared to Aiden’s. The governesses took great pains to correct her ‘unladylike’ behavior, and once she started wearing constricting clothes, the impulses that had been simmering inside her lost their outlet.

 

“I guess you couldn’t run around freely with that waist brace on.”

 

“It’s not a waist brace, it’s a ‘corset’!”

 

Aiden, curious about the exact purpose of the garment, had asked her after seeing her corset hanging on a clothesline to prevent the rust from the wires from staining it.

 

“I… It’s to keep my figure nice. If you keep tightening it, your waist gets smaller.”

 

Anje had explained to him, swallowing her embarrassment. Remembering how he always answered her even the most trivial questions.

 

“But isn’t it uncomfortable wearing that hard thing? It must be even worse with that cage on top of it…”

 

“It’s not a cage, it’s a crinoline!”

 

The expression grated on her, but he was right.

 

Ever since she had started wearing the corset, she had always felt tired, irritable, and lacking in energy. It had been a long time since she had laughed heartily or run towards someone.

 

“You wouldn’t know, living in the countryside, but to be considered a beauty, you need to have a small waist.”

 

“But, You’re still…”

 

Aiden swallowed the words he was about to say, “You’re still beautiful.” Somehow, it felt inappropriate to comment on her appearance.

 

“I still?”

 

“…look very thin.”

 

“You can’t see under my clothes, ah. Wait, forget that last part.”

 

It was a slip of the tongue that came out of her concern about her waistline. Yesterday, she had sneaked a peek at the corset she had dried in the sun, and was horrified to see that it didn’t fit as tightly as it used to, so she shoved it back into the drawer.

 

“Hmm, are the sunflowers growing well?”

 

“Yes. Oh, and the poppies and trumpet flowers are growing so fast too? It’s a shame that the crocuses are already wilting.”

 

Anje, who had taken the seeds that Aiden was about to sow and planted them herself, was feeling the magic of spring as she watched the sprouts grow differently every day.

 

“The leaves are turning brown from the tips too, is that okay?”

 

“If the bulbs don’t rot, they will bloom again every year. You don’t have to worry too much.”

 

The bulbs that had bloomed all their flowers would store nutrients in their roots and go into a long sleep. Anje smiled in relief at Aiden’s explanation.

 

“That’s a relief. Oh, the trumpet flower leaves have turned yellow too, but is that okay?”

 

“I’ll take a look.”

 

“I’ll go with you too.”

 

Since the flowerbed had been created, Anje had become an even more enthusiastic explorer of plants. He deliberately slowed down his pace to match Anje, who was following behind him.

 

He knelt on the ground in front of the flower and examined the plant, touching the soil. He then made his diagnosis.

 

“I was worried it might be overwatered, but it doesn’t seem like it. It’s just the cotyledons that have withered after doing their job.”

 

“So it’s a natural process? Even so, the stem was growing straight out from between the cotyledons.”

 

The fluffy new stem looked like a baby’s hair to her, and it was cute.

 

“Yes, so don’t worry.”

 

“What should I do if it’s overwatered?”

 

A notebook and pencil popped out of her pocket.

 

“Dig up the roots and cut off the rotten parts―.”

 

Anje wrote down every word he said without missing a beat, like a passionate student taking notes in class.

 

‘Compared to when she first came to the farm, she’s grown (matured)so much.’

 

Looking at her earnest face, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. If he let his guard down, he felt like he might pat her fluffy hair without realizing it.

 

Anje, unaware of his intentions, muttered with the tip of her pencil in her mouth.

 

“Plants are really like babies.”

 

“Yes, exactly. You have observe them so well that you can take appropriate action when needed…”

 

Aiden steered the conversation back to its original topic, narrowly avoiding veering into a discussion about botany.

 

“Speaking of Mrs. Meg…”

 

“What about Mrs. Meg?”

 

She lowered her voice considerably.

 

“If you’re okay with it, would you like her to continue coming once a week as she has been?”

 

His hand had already fully recovered, but there was a clear difference between having a capable housekeeper in the house and not.

 

Given the more comfortable living environment he now enjoyed, Aiden thought it might not be a bad idea to continue asking for Meg’s help regularly.

 

Especially since the farm work would get busier as the weather warmed up.

 

“That’s fine with me. She’s a delightful person.”

 

In addition, Anje, who was nodding along, had also become more lively since Meg had started working.

 

She was glad to be able to stop doing laundry, which was boring compared to other chores, and she also enjoyed the different kind of fun she had when she was alone with the gruff and taciturn Aiden.

 

The stories Meg told about Aiden’s childhood were absolutely fascinating. And the gossip she often shared about Leslie Town, which she had expected to be boring since it was about the lives of ordinary people, was surprisingly thrilling and interesting.

 

For example, she once mentioned how the wounded greengrocer threw a subtle insult at Mrs. Hudson, who runs an inn, only to be hit back by Mr. Hudson with a thick pork leg.

 

“Then I’ll let her know right away.”

 

“Alright. Then I’ll be in the wheat field.”

 

After finishing their conversation, Anje pressed her face to the ground and began muttering something to the finger-sized seedlings.

 

“The green leaves look so nice today. You have to grow up big and strong, our little pretties. Oh, aren’t you cute?”

 

“…What are you doing?”

 

“I heard that if you grow them with love, they’ll grow better.”

 

“That’s…”

 

He didn’t mean to talk to the leaves with affection, just to remind her to water them and pull the weeds often.

 

In any case, her face, smeared with dirt on one cheek, looked so pleased that he didn’t offer any counterargument and headed towards the kitchen.

 

Even if the seedlings could talk, they probably wouldn’t have objected and would have accepted the affection.

 

* * *

 

Aiden, entering the kitchen, found Meg busy cleaning the oven.

 

“Aunty.”

 

“Hmm? Just a moment, let me finish this.”

 

Straightening her back, Meg pulled out a blackened rag from a bucket and started wiping inside the oven. The clean water quickly turned dirty.

 

“Ah, look at all this ash piled up. I should have cleaned it sooner. So, are you hungry, sir?”

 

“No, I’m fine.”

 

He interrupted Mrs. Meg, who was about to take something out of the pantry.

 

Then, in a brief and polite manner, he requested if he could continue helping her once a week.

 

Meg’s face brightened up.

 

“Oh, that’s great then. It’s nice to have a reliable helper and a pleasant companion.”

 

“Thank you. And… I’m sorry for not visiting you sooner.”

 

Aiden bowed deeply, conveying multiple meanings with his gesture.

 

Meg had been a fond memory from his childhood. But since returning at Leslie, he had kept his distance not only from the villagers but also from Meg.

 

The thought that even if they accidentally met, she might be disappointed to see the innocent boy from her memory transformed into the troubled man he had become, choked him.

 

His dirty emotions, guilt, and self-loathing would surely show, even if subtly.

 

Yet Meg warmly welcomed him as if nothing had happened, willingly offering her help.

 

What had he been worrying and agonizing about all this time? He felt grateful to her, with a sense of emptiness and unchangedness.

 

Meg smiled, her eyes crinkling with kindness.

 

“An apology between us, Young Master, really.”

 

Dodging the hand that wanted to pinch his cheek, Aiden stepped back slightly. He appreciated her, but this was something he had to make clear.

 

“I’ve been thinking for a while now, using the title ‘Young Master’ seems a bit too young for me…”

 

Because of Meg’s tone, even Anje began to call him ‘Young Master’ in a playful manner.

 

“In my eyes, you’re still a good Young Master. How cold and distant would it be if I called you ‘Mr. Fitzroy’ or ‘Mr. Aiden’?”

 

He gave up on arguing further. After all, it would be awkward for him to suddenly call Meg ‘Ms. Ellen.’

 

“It’s amazing how you’ve grown from a crying baby in a crib to getting married. How fast time flies.”

 

Meg, lost in her thoughts, suddenly snapped back to reality.

 

Thinking of him as a baby reminded her of something she needed to check with him.

 

“Young Master?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“When you were seven, D… Do you remember the time I explained to you that babies are picked from the cabbage patch?”

 

“Ah…”

 

Oh, right. Why was she bringing up that memory now?

 

As Aiden was about to question her, deep concern creased Meg’s face.

 

“You don’t still believe that story, do you? Actually, babies are made when a man and a woman lie together in a bed and—”

 

“Yes, ah, I know! I’m aware! Of course, I’m an adult now!”

 

* * * *

 

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