The first thing that greeted him after waking up was the cool breeze carrying the scent of flowers. A young man stretched, got out of bed, and stepped onto the balcony to enjoy the fresh morning air.

His gaze swept across the vast, green rice fields spreading out before him. The faint floral fragrance came from the jasmine bushes he had planted around the house back when he was in high school.

The morning sky was overcast with clouds, and the breeze felt cooler than usual. It seemed likely that rain might fall in a few hours, a common occurrence during the rainy season.

On such days, the family’s small restaurant usually had fewer customers, as always when the weather was unfavourable. The young man sighed softly and went back inside before heading to the bathroom to freshen up for the day.

"This year, the rain's been heavier than ever," James muttered to himself while brushing his teeth.

The young man's home was a small, family-run made-to-order restaurant located along a main road leading to the city centre.

Surrounded by lush green rice fields and with a mountain range visible in the distance, the wooden house was built in the Lanna architectural style. It was bordered by jasmine bushes and towering pulm trees. Cool breezes constantly swept through the area, making it an ideal place to unwind after a hard day's work.

The restaurant's clientele was a mix of travellers passing through, tourists, seminar attendees, pilgrims visiting sacred sites, and regular customers from nearby villages.

Despite operating on a modest scale, the mother-and-son team prioritized quality and freshness in their ingredients. The profits were just enough to sustain their daily needs and save a little for emergencies.

Life in the rural countryside was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the capital city. James and his mother had moved back to their hometown after his parents divorced.

Their lives had been modest but manageable. Upon finishing high school, James decided not to pursue higher education, opting instead to help ease his mother’s financial burden due to her declining health. His cooking skills and amiable personality made him the pride of the neighbourhood.

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The restaurant, whimsically named "The Delicacy in Jasmine Blooms", operated from early morning until late at night. Its menu featured predominantly veggies and favours dishes, emphasizing seasonal ingredients.

Popular items included fruit smoothies and desserts like Thai tea with toast, which often attracted young students on their way home from school.

“Jam, are you done? There's a special order for breakfast today,” his mother called out warmly from the kitchen.

James, whose friends often called him Jam, was a strikingly handsome young man. He had sharp features, expressive eyes, and a slim but athletic build. His curly black hair added a casual charm to his appearance.

Wearing his cream-colored work uniform with a light green apron, he radiated an approachable vibe. The apron bore the restaurant's logo—a cute lamb nestled in a jasmine bloom.

“Almost done, Mom!” he called back, quickly checking his reflection in the mirror before stepping out of his room.

"Make the dishes listed on the board and deliver them to the village chief's house, will you?" his mother said, busy washing vegetables nearby.

James picked up the list and squinted at the handwriting. It looked more like scribbles than words. After several futile attempts at deciphering it, he sighed and turned to his mother for help.

"Mom, what did they order? I can't read this at all."

"Chicken curry with bamboo shoots, spicy jungle curry with shrimp, and mushroom soup with sweet forest herbs," she replied without looking up. "All with extra seasoning."

"Got it," he said, crumpling the list and tossing it into the trash.

Cooking was where James truly felt at peace. The kitchen was his sanctuary, a place where he could channel his creativity. Preparing dishes that brought joy to others gave him a sense of accomplishment.

The aroma of chicken curry simmering with herbs filled the room as he finished garnishing it with chopped scallions and fresh basil.

After packing the food securely, James approached his mother from behind, giving her a warm hug.

"You're too old for this, Jam," his mother teased with a smile. "What if the village girls see you? Won't you be embarrassed?"

"Just giving you some love, Mom, so I have the energy to bike the food over," he quipped, his voice playful.

"Then hurry up and deliver it before you get all sweaty. You just showered, didn’t you?" she said, laughing as she gently pushed him away.

"I'm not worried about looking handsome," he replied with a cheeky grin.

"You should be! I want to see you settled down and starting your own family. When will I get to hold grandchildren?"

"Mom, I’m only 18, turning 19 soon! Let me keep my innocence a little longer, okay?" he laughed, shaking his head. "Maybe when I'm 30, I'll bring you a daughter-in-law."

"Thirty? That’s too long! Do you expect me to wait forever?"

"One child can look after you just fine, can’t he?" he teased, puffing his cheeks like a mischievous boy.

His mother sighed, though her voice remained gentle. "I just want you to be happy, to see the world and make connections with people. Not just spend your days cooped up here playing games or sketching. I know you’re worried about me, but I don’t want you to miss out on life."

"I'm not missing out, Mom," he said softly, his tone sincere.

James smile carried the weight of his responsibilities, yet it also reflected his love and gratitude for the simple life they had built together.