13. A Flower That Blooms for a Hundred Days

 Rarien settled in a small seaside island village. It was quite far even from the south, a remote place that took two hours by boat from the harbor to reach. 

 When her grandfather showed her paintings of this place in her childhood, she thought it was so beautiful that she must visit someday. Being bound to the temple, she had only visited the beach, never daring to attempt an island trip. But after letting everything go, nothing seemed difficult anymore. 

 Why had she lived so desperately all this time? Looking back on the past days only made her laugh. 

 Rarien arranged to stay at a cottage with an elderly couple. They used to run an inn, but it seemed they didn’t get many visitors. They barely made ends meet by catching fish. 

 When Rarien was young, she was briefly left in her grandparents’ care when family circumstances were difficult. Perhaps because of that, she found it easy to get along with the elderly. She paid them for lodging and occasionally helped with work while staying together. 

 After eating a hearty lunch and dozing off, Rarien rose from the bed. She neatly tied up her messy, disheveled hair into one bundle. Why hadn’t she known until now how sweet it was to sleep during the day? These days, she was troubled by constantly feeling sleepy. 

 “Did you sleep well?” 

 Rarien whispered while stroking her lower abdomen. 

 “You’re making me sleep all day.” 

 She teased playfully. Still, having company meant she wasn’t lonely. 

 After arriving here by boat, she visited a doctor when her seasickness wouldn’t subside and received unexpected news. She was pregnant. 

 It was unimaginable since she had been careful to take contraceptive tea, knowing pregnancy wasn’t an option in her situation. 

 But no contraceptive method is perfect, and if a child was conceived despite prevention, there was nothing to do but accept it. 

 At first, she just felt dazed. She also felt devastated, like she had done something unforgivable. 

 What would happen to this child when she died? 

 Having just received life, would it have to depart with her without even seeing the light of day because of its inadequate and irresponsible mother? 

 Nicholas Reinhart had said he was loved by God. 

 Though she didn’t know how, she sometimes wanted to just go find him and lean on him because everything felt so hopeless and desperate. 

 But what if she ended up dying with the child? Could he bear being left alone? 

 And what about Isaac? 

 She didn’t want to become an obstacle holding him back. 

 If it was a sin she had to bear, if it was her share to carry, she had to endure it alone. 

 Rarien stared blankly at the zinnia pot placed by the sunny window. 

 01 

 The numbers 0 and 1 sparkled. 

 Today was the last day of the 100 days granted to Rarien Claude. 

 Though the zinnia had died, Rarien didn’t throw away the pot. There were still days remaining. She couldn’t throw it away because it felt like she would be giving up on her remaining days too. 

 She had thought the last day would be something special. But it was such an ordinary, unremarkable day. Perhaps because it didn’t feel real. She wasn’t particularly sad or scared either. 

 One thing had changed since the baby came: prayer time was added to her day. 

 She had become greedy. Not simply greedy to live longer, but greedy to protect her baby.

Perhaps because it was the instinctive desire of motherhood, she couldn’t give up even knowing it wasn’t possible. Rarien stood before the zinnia, clasped her hands together, and bowed her head. Then she offered a most desperate prayer. 

 “Goddess Arne, please let me protect my baby.” 

 She decided to pray even knowing it wouldn’t work. That was far better than giving up. 

 What kind of mother gives up on her baby before it’s even born? The baby would be so sad if it knew. 

 Please let her protect the baby. 

 Please grant her the strength to do so. 

 She dared not ask for more — just a little more time until the child is born, couldn’t that be granted? 

 Because praying was all she could do, she prayed more and more desperately. 

 Along with her prayers, she diligently cared for the dead plant pot, watering it, ventilating it, and letting it get sunlight. Though she knew it was useless, she just didn’t want to give up. 

 “……What’s this?” 

 While observing the pot, Rarien discovered a tiny sprout peeking through. 

 She thought it was dead. But it seems it was alive. 

 “Look, baby. Isn’t it cute? This is called a sprout. It’s a baby plant just like you.” 

 It was still so small and fragile. 

 It wasn’t there until yesterday but appeared now. So tomorrow it will surely have grown more. 

 “Like you… it will grow tall and strong.” 

 She hoped so. 

 Would there be a tomorrow for them? 

 Even if they weren’t granted tomorrow. She wanted to believe it would surely come. Just like how a sprout miraculously sprouted in the flower pot she thought was dead. Perhaps a small miracle would happen for her and the baby too. 

 Her heart swelled uncontrollably at the welcome miracle before her eyes. 

 A gentle breeze wafted in through the open window. 

 The season was already heading toward autumn after passing through the sweltering summer. It was such a lovely breezy day. She couldn’t just stay in the room on a day like this. Rarien decided to pack up her things and go outside. 

 “Rarien, are you going to the beach?” 

 “Yes.” 

 “Going to draw again, I suppose?” 

 The landlady commented knowingly, seeing the art supplies and sketchbook tucked under her arm. Rarien nodded with a bright smile. 

 “The wind gets quite chilly in the afternoon, so take something warm. And come back before dinner.” 

 The landlady nagged a lot, but she was equally caring. 

 “Yes, don’t worry. What’s for dinner tonight?” 

 “Beef stew. I bought some when I heard boats came into the harbor.” 

 “That sounds delicious!” 

 “Don’t just say it sounds delicious. Eat plenty for the baby’s sake. Pregnant women need to eat well.” 

 The landlady grumbled to herself as she put on her thick reading glasses to do some sewing. 

 Seeing that suddenly reminded her of that man who always insisted she wear glasses before going out, making her pause. 

Rarien didn’t forget things like glasses anymore.

***

 Rarien sat on a mat spread out on the white sand, listening to the crashing waves. The late afternoon sea was quiet. Only the sound of waves and occasional crying seagulls could be heard. No one else was there. 

 Before she knew it, the sun began to set on the distant horizon. The time when the sun and moon crossed paths—it was Rarien’s favorite time. 

 The red light on the sea and the blue darkness in the sky mixed to create a mysterious purple hue. This moment, too ambiguous to call either day or night, passes like a fleeting instant. It will start getting dark in the blink of an eye. 

 Yes, perhaps it feels more precious and beautiful because it’s so brief. 

 Just like how Rarien Claude’s hundred days were fleeting but shone brighter than anyone else’s. Looking back, those hundred days were the happiest time of her life. 

 Rarien was about to close her sketchbook after sketching the seascape when she turned one more page. There was no reason. If she had to say why, it was because the sea breeze tickling her cheeks felt nice, and she didn’t want to go in right away. The feeling of the wind on her skin was pleasant. Such trivial reasons like… being able to feel the moment of being alive on her skin. 

 It seemed to get a bit chilly as the sun went down. 

 She forgot to bring a shawl. Well, it should be fine for a little while. This might be the last time she sees the sea. She wanted to stay a bit longer. 

 “Baby, what do you look like?” 

 Rarien asked while stroking her lower abdomen. 

 That’s what she wondered about most these days. If she could see just once before dying, she felt she wouldn’t want anything more. Though she didn’t know the gender and had never seen it, she was certain it would be a very beautiful baby. 

 The hair? 

 Would it be pure blonde like Dad’s? 

 Or brown like hers? It could be a completely different color too. She couldn’t guess. 

 The eye color? 

 She hoped the eyes at least would take after Dad’s golden ones. Green wouldn’t be bad, but it couldn’t compare to those eyes that shone with brilliance like they had captured the sun. 

 For a moment, Rarien remembered that the sprout she saw in the zinnia pot resembled her own eye color, and she laughed meaninglessly.