"Longtime ago, in Bethlehem, on the night of Christmas, a girl cried as she did not have any gifts to bring, and when her tears touched the ground, the Christmas rose bloomed." Lorraine pressed her hand on her daughter's head, caressing with her soft touch, while Helle had her eyes closed in the warmth of her mother's lap. 

"But how does it form a connection to my name?" Helle inquired, expressing both her tiredness and her resolve to unravel the enigma.

Lorraine simply gazed at her child, unsure of whether the little one would even be able to understand the term 'scientific name'. Instead, she gently placed her warm palm against the little girl's eyes and whispered, "I will share the information with you tomorrow." Good night"

There was silence. Helle didn't answer, but rather, something moist pressed on Lorraine's palm. 

"You always say that! I just... I just want to know! What's wrong with it?" Being a little over six years old, Helle threw a tantrum, unknown to her, that her mother was tired. Tired of everything. The world. Her husband and now, even her daughter. 

"Listen Helle. Be quiet and sleep unless you want me to bring my stick." The sudden change in the mother's temperament made the child stop her fits and sleep. Meanwhile, the mother, Lorraine, shut the door, causing a loud bang as she left. 

~

"Helle, have you tended the farm? Uh, you reek of the dung. Go get changed while I open the shop." Lorraine had grown older as the years passed. The month of gratitude, November, had come to the doorsteps, while everything had remained the same or even worse over the years. 

"Alright," Helle replied. She placed the two big baskets of apples on the dinner table and headed to the shower. Tearing off the overcoat gifted by her aunt, she tied her hair to a bun before turning on the cold water. It was cold. Goosebumps appeared on the hands and thighs, but the water didn't stop. 

While exfoliating the dead cells, Helle took a glance at the mirror. She was now twenty-two. The bags under the eyes indicated her lack of sleep. Her hands were cracked in certain places, and the texture was rough. The farmer's tan was obvious on her face, but she was happy. Right? 

The water ran through her, soaking and waking her senses, giving her the true meaning of being awake and alive. 

"Helle, what is taking you so long?" Her mother's sharp voice pierced through the two-story wooden house. 

"Coming!" she instantly stopped all her thoughts and closed the water tap. Changing into a dress and an apron, Helle ran down the stairs. Along the stairs were plenty of pictures of a happy family. Her dad, Victor, her mother, and herself, enjoying the sunny morning in the swing. But of course, life wasn't always the same. 

As the years went by, the meager earnings were troublesome, and soon, arguments started. Each day while the parents cried, the little girl cried in her room until one day she couldn't, as her father left all the debt to her name and died in the accident. 

"Look at you. When will you learn? The dishes aren't done, and the floor isn't cleaned. Always only ever looking at me, expecting me to do everything. Tsk, just like your father. Insolent." Just as Helle appeared, she was bombarded with shouts, which she should have gotten used to, but just at the mention of her father, her eyes glared. Right hand pressed to form a fist, and she gulped down her words. 

"Now clean the floor! What are you glaring at? I will be leaving for the town, so be sure to make no faults." With those empty threats, Lorraine left the house while Helle took the dried mop from the back garden and started to clean. 

Tears swelled up in her eyes. The frustration. The anger, and most of all, the fact that she was her father's daughter. It pricked her. But for how long could she cry? Only in the younger years did people accept the weeps, but in the adult world, the masquerade started from home. 

Wiping her tears, Helle cleaned the counter tops and did the dishes. For the menu, it remained the same. Shepard's pie or beef with rice. Due to the low income and very few customers', they were at the brick of closing. 

While it was maybe eight am in the early morning, Helle started to prepare for the dishes just in case someone came or else she'd just have it as her lunch instead. 

~

"Ting~" The bell on top of the door rang. Helle, who was writing her analytical critic for the book she had just competed, was startled to the core. Her hand swirled an unusual doodle on the text copy, and her lips gaped. 

A man wearing a loose black shirt that was folded up till her elbows walked inside casually with frustrated eyes. 'Tsk," he clicked his tongue while running his hand through his hair, which was a mix of chestnut brown and jet black. 

"Is it really a restaurant?" He murmured. The fresh, earthy scent mixed with the different flowers roamed in the room. 

Meanwhile, Helle walked towards the counter, expecting the neighbor's or her relatives, or, she hoped not, her fiancé, but instead an irresistibly handsome man had arrived. His hands were inside his pocket. Quick to notice the heavy gold chain in his left wrist, she was startled when the man spoke, "What do you have here?"

"uh?"

"The menu"

"Oh, well, the shepherds pie and beef with rice," she stated while feeling uncomfortable. The man had a very strong presence. While he spoke very little, his expressions were like an open book. The way he rolled his eyes, knowing that there were only two items, made it clear; he disliked even being there. 

"Make me both. Quick," he commanded. Taking a seat at the farthest corner of the room where no one could see him, he took out the phone inside the pants's pocket while trying to call. 

Within the next ten minutes, Helle brought out the fresh Shepherd's pie and placed it on the table. The platewear was the fancy China bone, too luxurious for a small ragged shop, which made the man raise his brows, but he didn't complain. 

The pie had the aroma of the fresh herbs and meat, and the pie was flaky and crispy. Still unsure, he took a bite of it, hoping to not get any stomach aches. To his surprise, it was as good as the restaurants in the city. Keeping the poker expression, he continued to devour both items, savoring them until there was nothing. 

"Ting~" The doorbell rang. Helle, who was busy making the dessert as a complementary, left the stove and peered at the door. The customer had left no traces. 

'oh no...' The sudden rush of adrenaline passed through her blood after all; what was she supposed to do? Taking a deep breath in, she gazed at the table and saw empty plates and a bill. Only then did she feel slight relief. Walking back to the stove, Helle stirred the liquid and turned down the heat. 

"What a weird man!" Helle said, collecting the cash on the table. It was three times the original price, yet he quickly left. What was he doing here? In the small country area where there was barely any unity. 

'Perhaps he's an investor.' That said, while wiping the table, the door opened once again. 

'um? Mum has returned earlier today' Helle raised her head, "Welco-." The presence of the person made her chock her words, and her stature frozen. Unable to do anything. Her lips were quick to shut and set into a thin line.