【Sunshower Grove】 Preface + CH1.01: Ridiculous Favors (I)
Updated: Oct 6
Hi, welcome to Sunshower Grove!
Sunshower Grove’s story follows Granny (from Jasmine of the Sky on Webtoon) and her husband (Grandpa) when they were younger, a few years before they were married.
You don't need to read the webtoon before you read this novel. Sunshower Grove will be a single, stand-alone story.
This is my first attempt at writing a webnovel, but old webcomic habits die hard so I'm still going to try and sneak in some pencil-sketches in every chapter. Here's a sneak-peek of several of them:
Setting: This series takes place in a fictional world that is deeply inspired by (but not strictly based on) various Asian and indigenous cultures, particularly those of South Asia (South India, largely). It is set in a pagan, element-worshiping world, roughly parallel to the modern 70s and 80s. Other stories set in this world include Storm Creed (in an ancient fantasy setting), and Jasmine of the Sky (a modern-day setting).
Again, none of those series need to be read to follow this novel.
Before you begin reading, please consider the following closely:
General Content Warnings:
Major:
Suggestive situations (16+) but no explicit NSFW content
Swearing / Foul Language / Profanity (partially censored)
In some chapters:
Death of a Parent (in the past)
Physical violence (not between main characters)
Mentions of bullying/harassment (not between main characters)
Mentions of attempted assault (does not involve main characters)
If any of the above content upsets you, please do not proceed. While I shall try my best to add appropriate content-warnings, it can get tricky when it ties in with spoilers. I'll try my best to avoid that, but if I miss any warnings, please let me know.
Although not strictly necessary to follow the story, here is a map of the countries mentioned in the series.
For the most part, the characters belong to a country called Adita, and they live in a coastal city called Vriya.
---DISCLAIMER--- This story is a work of fiction set in a fictional world. Artistic and creative liberties have been taken to reinterpret various philosophical and theological concepts. The views, customs, and concepts portrayed in this series DO NOT REPRESENT real-life cultures, belief systems or the personal views of the author.
Names of people, places, institutions and other concepts have been created and used fictitiously and any resemblance to real-life entities or events is purely coincidental. Thank you for understanding.
Sunshower Grove © Panchu All Rights Reserved.
CH1: Ridiculous Favors (I) 【Suu】
Summer dragged on in Vriya City, the sultry heat from the sea smothering the land like the inside of a steam-pot. Suu was convinced that the Rain Gods would need a ritual sacrifice at this rate, and she was more than willing to toss a bus-load of bitchy aunties and creepy uncles into the fire. Round up all the creepy men in town and shove them into the Kāsyan sea, for good measure. But sadly, brutal sacrifices only ever existed in horror-folktales, and modern-day medicine made sure most jerks lived way past their expiry dates.
At this rate, it would take nothing short of a miracle for rainclouds to show up, and Suu figured it was going to be a long, long summer. Miracles didn’t exist, after all.
“Just you watch, Mr. Airavara! Your precious daughter is headed for a lot of trouble,” Mrs. Venai bit out, her voice ringing across the old bookstore. “It’s just a matter of time!”
An old man sat hunched over the billing-counter, tallying the money the woman had just paid for her newly-purchased books. Adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses with his free hand, he gave her a well-practiced, sad glance.
“I’m afraid to ask, Mrs. Venai…” he began slowly, “…but what did she say this time?” he asked, sliding two silver coins from the pile towards her. Mrs. Venai eyed the ‘special discount’ and sighed.
“She asked me if I dropped my son a lot when he was a baby,” she said, voice flat.
Mr. Airavara’s eyebrows nearly reached his hairline. “I’m sorry, but what in—”
“Because,” she crossed her arms, “according to her, ‘his manners were on the floor’,” she huffed. The old man’s eyebrows scrunched into a painful crease, and Mrs. Venai sighed again before continuing. “Oh yes, and that he had the ‘personality of an unused slipper’.”
A terribly awkward silence descended upon the bookstore, only to be broken by a muffled sound from upstairs. Jolting at it, Mr. Airavara scrambled to sit up straight.
“I am extremely sorry, Mrs. Venai,” his fingers held his forehead while glancing at the staircase. His misery seemed to please the customer as she smirked at him.
“Well, curse me for looking out for your daughter,” the older woman snarked as she gathered her coins, “All I did was suggest she speak with my boy! But oooh no,” she shook her head with the last two words. “She went straight to insults!”
Nodding back, the old man shifted his concerned gaze between her and the staircase. “You tried to set her up with your son,” he grimaced, shaking his head. “You really shouldn’t have bothered, ma’am.”
Smacking her palm on her chest as if he’d accused her of a crime, Mrs. Venai gave him a horrified look. “Well forgive me, Sir, but don’t you want to see your youngest settle down?!”
Mr. Airavara’s fluffy white hair looked like a small cloud on his head as he turned around to grab a paper-bag. “Good Gods, don’t I. And I’m sure you and your son are wonderful people, Mrs. Venai,” he said, busying himself with packing her books. “But I’m afraid she’s a bit too young for him.”
“Too young,” the older woman scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Now what’s wrong with a thirty-five-year-old man marrying a twenty-eight-year-old woman?”
The old man paused for a moment before handing over her package. “Nothing wrong at all, ma’am,” he said with a small smile. “But Sumitra just turned nineteen. Thank you for your purchase, and do come again.”
Mrs. Venai stared with her mouth open as realization flashed across her face. Cheeks flushing red, she cursed apologies under her breath and scurried out of the bookstore. Sitting back on his wooden chair, Mr. Airavara took a deep breath.
“I know you’re up there Suu,” he called towards the staircase. “Enjoyed your view, did you?”
Footsteps thumped along the ceiling with a muffled voice going ‘you bet I did!’. Mr. Airavara sighed as his youngest daughter raced her way down the staircase like a feral cat on the run.
Suu landed on the wooden floorboards with a loud bang, her long curly braid flying one way and her divided-skirt nearly tripping over her ankles the other way. Steadying herself, she adjusted her apron and and darted her cat-like gaze at her father.
“That nosy old cow can’t count to save her life,” she peeked through the windows to make sure Mrs. Venai was gone. “Her baby boy is forty-one, by the way.”
Mr. Airavara slammed his palm onto his face. “Surely there were nicer ways to let her down,” he grumbled, tapping the receipt-book. “Customers are royalty, how many times have I told you that?”
“I know, but she wouldn’t shut up,” she protested, walking around the old shelves. “I told her that all I wanted was to make my own hard-earned money, but she was convinced that all I needed was a husband and three kids. And I was being nice, Pa. Cows are lovely, unlike Mrs. Venai,” she snarled, more-so because she was hauling a large slate signboard from behind a stack of canvases. “I bet they count better than her too.”
“Well, she won’t be back for a while, that’s for sure,” Pa sighed as he flipped through the receipt-book before stashing it under the counter.
Suu chuckled. “I’d deal with people like her if they bought your paintings,” she said, checking the signboard. “Commission a mural or two, and I’ll be on my best behavior!”
“Sounds more like a threat to me,” the old man climbed down from his chair. Suu smirked and said nothing, because he was probably right. “I don’t think she’ll press you over it again,” Pa continued with a tinge of pity in his voice, as though he were trying to console her. “But there’s no way she thought you were twenty-eight, for Gods’ sake,” he muttered.
A sneaky smile flashed across Suu’s face as she considered telling him the truth.
“It’s what people expect when your older sister’s well past forty and when your nephew’s older than you.” She then turned to face him with her widest smile yet. “But customers are royalty,” she sang, “So when Her Majesty asked me if I was twenty-eight, I said ‘yes of course, ma’am’.”
Some of the older shelves shook as Pa’s groans rang across the store, his face scrunching in that funny way it always did when he didn’t know whether to be angry at her or laugh at her.
“It’s no big deal,” Suu’s cheeky smile remained as she set the signboard against a shelf. She didn’t want it to be a big deal. Looking old next to her baby-faced peers yet young enough to get lectured into arranged marriage set-ups; that was how puberty chose to slap her. As a result, self-awareness followed her around like a clingy dog, one she’d have to feed for the rest of her days.
“This face helped me get hired,” she reasoned, thinking back to all the little part-time jobs she’d worked over the years. Pa was nowhere near rich, and with the way he managed his finances, it took a lot of scolding from Suu and her elder sister for him to barely stay out of debt. And with the mortgage on their building, every bit of money helped.
“Illegally,” Pa shot back. “Remember how much trouble I had to bail you out of—”
“That was just one time,” she held up her pointer, wagging it. “I was an ignorant child then!” Just as ignorant as the owner of the stitching centre who thought thirteen-year-old Suu fit right in with a group of young mothers.
“There’s a joke in there somewhere,” Pa sneered, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Well look, at-least I was paid for the work I did,” she crossed her arms, “unlike a certain bookstore-owner-art-teacher-muralist over here.”
Pa’s face scrunched with disdain, with that ‘I-pay-you-with-food-and-board’ look that parents often flung at their children. She was sure she’d see that face every single day if she’d been his art apprentice. But thankfully for her, the straightest line she could draw rivaled a toddler’s chalk scrawl. So for better or worse, ‘Mr. Airavara’s Art Apprentice’ was a job Suu never landed.
Pa rolled his eyes at the smug look on her face. “Speaking of work then, help me sort this order out,” he waved a piece of paper at her.
“An order?” she took the paper from him and began reading it with a frown. An order, she repeated in her head as if the word didn’t make sense. It didn’t, because she couldn’t remember the last time they got one of those.
“Uuuhh…” she narrowed her eyes to read carefully. “So they want everything we’ve got…about Jāla’s language and history?”
“Yup. Books, maps, whatever we’ve got,” said Pa. “Mostly books though. There’s an old box of them at the bottom of the History shelf. Couple of them in the Jālan language too, if I remember right. Careful, it’s dusty down there.”
“On it,” she was kneeling by the shelf in no time. Reading further into the sheet, she grimaced hard. “Wait, this is for someone from Central University,” she scrunched her nose at the last two words. It was hard not to, given CU’s reputation for being a private campus for posh, rich kids who had more money than manners.
“It’s for the head of their Jālan Studies Department, Professor Desakshi,” Pa sputtered. “She’s a good person,” he added hastily. Suu chuckled at his need to clarify that.
“Good to know,” she smiled bitterly at the memory of several CU students having given her a hard time back when she worked weekend-mornings at a small restaurant. Bunch of proud, arrogant jackasses, that lot. “Do you know this person, Pa?”
“Sort of, well…your sister and I do. Used to know her, rather…” Pa sounded hesitant. Wondering how she’d never heard of this person, Suu turned to sit on her haunches and get a good look at her father. Pa was looking at the floor, deep in thought.
“Old family friend maybe?” she asked with a slight frown.
An awkward pause followed. “Well, um…” he paused, making Suu frown even more. “…it’s just, well, your Ma used to tutor her…and well, she also went to school with your sister at some point…” he trailed off again.
Suu blinked a few times before turning away. Someone who knew Ma. That explained it. Pa struggled with talking about her mother, and Suu knew better than to open up old wounds.
“You don’t have to tell me about it,” she said softly as she opened the box of books. “I’ll get this sorted out in a bit.”
Pa said nothing more, and Suu took that as a sign that the conversation was over. She was so engrossed in sorting through book-spines that she jolted when Pa dragged a stool to sit beside her.
“Professor Desakshi…she was widowed early on in life,” Pa’s voice was hushed and slow. Suu stilled, eager to absorb whatever this new information was. “She raised two young children all by herself, you know,” he added. “She’s been through a lot.”
Pursing her lips and looking down at the book in her hands, Suu’s thoughts landed on her elder sister. Big-Sis had to raise her little son and her own newborn baby-sister at the same time, all while grieving her own mother’s death. That, had been a lot.
“Big-Sis probably had it way worse if you ask me,” Suu muttered, the familiar twinge of guilt spreading across her chest.
All because of me.
“Good thing no one asked, then,” Pa chided, gently tapping a book against her head as if to warn her. She was sure he was frowning. “Tragedy isn’t a competition, you silly child.”
Suu chewed the inside of her mouth as she dove back into sorting, hating that Pa was, well, probably right. Still worse, the air between them began to sour, and a long lecture seemed to brew within it.
“All right Boss, if you say so,” she shrugged, side-eying her father curiously. “So,” she nudged his arm with her head. “Any reason you’re telling me all this about her?”
Twisting his scruffy white mustache, Pa drummed his fingers on his lap; his usual routine when he was panicking. “No reason, really,” his squishy face squirmed, making Suu bite back a laugh. Pa was a terrible liar, and the problem lay in his tattletale face. You could predict the weather with his expressions. “Well, I was just hoping you’d do me a favor,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.
Suu fixed him with a knowing, forced smile. All that ever came out of Pa’s mouth after the word ‘favor’ was first-rate nonsense. “As long as I don’t have to ask random strangers to model for you again, I’ll do what I can,” she said.
Yet another awkward silence fell upon the room, except for the sound of books thumping against one another. Suu fought the urge to both laugh and groan at the same time. Pa knew how to live. Difficult conversation with a neighbor? Send Suu. Wrong order at the supply store? Send Suu. Ask random strangers if they’d pose for a sketch? Send Suu.
“Suu,” Pa began with an awkward, questioning tone. Classic Pa, switching over to his sweet-old-man-voice when the going got rough. “What if its for a workshop, though,” he reasoned.
Oh not this sh*t again. Suu shot him a mean glare. “Get the workshop people to set you up then,” her voice strained, “Why is it my job to talk to people that you’re supposed to talk to?!”
She didn’t mind talking to people, really. But over the years, each new encounter with rude and strange folks made it harder and harder to land on her feet when they threw her off. She learned to become stingy with her words as well as the people she directed them at.
“But you’re so good at it,” Pa nagged. “You know what they say, the more people you’re connected with, the better!” He sounded a bit too excited at that, enough to set off alarm bells in Suu’s mind.
“Goodness,” she frowned, narrowing her eyes. “What on earth are they mixing into your paints these days?”
Pa snarled as he shook a book at her, threatening to send it flying her way. “Quit messing around and listen to me, you cat! Look, um…you see, the Professor’s son,” he paused, and Suu screwed her eyes shut right then. “Doh, listen to me!”
Theeeere’s his reason, she sighed to herself.
While she was more than willing to help her family out any way she could, she had to draw the line at Pa’s crazy-off requests.
“I saw him once, you know,” Pa continued, gazing into the distance with gleamy eyes. “Many, many years ago. He had such a beautiful face, Gods! Like those forest-faeries people warn you about, you know? I’d forgotten all about him, until the Professor walked in today. So if you could just get him to—”
“Wait-wait-wait,” she cut in. “So you don’t really know what he looks like now. Yet you want me to ask him to sit still so you and your students can draw him,” she stared. “Pa. Is this how I find out you smoke your paints?”
Pa stared back as the regular noise of the street buzzed into the silence. “Gods, I should’ve just asked when the Professor came in today,” he winced, ruffling his hair.
“Yup,” Suu hauled out the last stack of books from within the old box before looking back at him. “Besides, he could be married, a weirdo, or more likely, both. Not a good look, is it? Remember, Mrs. Venai said I was headed for a lot of trouble.”
“I suppose…” Pa conceded, looking away sheepishly. He looked a little ashamed about it, which Suu was happy about. “…I suppose it does sound like a bad idea to have you speak to him,” he crabbed.
“Not your worst idea though,” she shrugged. “That one happened over nineteen years ago.”
“That tongue is what Mrs. Venai was warning me about,” Pa groaned.
“Case closed then,” she exhaled, dusting her hands off the now neat pile of books. “I’m not convincing strangers to model for you, yeah?”
“All right,” Pa rolled his eyes in a way that said otherwise. “All right, all right. Could’ve had the chance to talk to a pretty boy,” he huffed, stool screeching as he left her side.
Suu rolled her eyes so hard her vision blurred. ‘Pretty boy’ and it’s probably just some dude who washes his face twice a day.
It took every bit of self-control to bite down the snark, knowing full well her sneaky old man wasn’t about to let this go. But the urge to argue began to simmer and bubble until she felt like a boiling kettle. Just like the weather outside.
“Well, you know what they say,” she mimicked Pa’s words from earlier, “pretty boys come with ugly problems,” she shrugged. Ugly problems that she would never have to deal with, Gods forbid. Problems were aplenty with her brand of luck and with the way her tongue was set up.
Pa spun around, his brows creasing hard. “That does not apply to your nephew!” he shot back, his grandfatherly defenses gearing up for attack. “Listen up, there’s nothing wrong with my handsome grandson!”
“What isn’t wrong with Prasanna you mean,” she stood up, crossing her arms. As was tradition, she apologized to her nephew in her mind before taking a deep breath. The poor guy didn’t deserve half the slander she sent his way, but his grandfather sure had it coming. “Nearly six-feet tall, grown man who screams like a toddler every time I drive that delivery-van,” she huffed. All that for a beat-up metal box on wheels. At best, it helped her pass her driving test. “Curly hair and pretty eyes make people forget that he looks like a stretched-out squirrel on a good day. I don’t get it!”
“Good Gods, I owe Mrs. Venai a sincere apology,” Pa scrubbed his hands on his face. “Fine, whatever,” his tone yet again betrayed otherwise as he lumbered towards his studio. “Now go make a list of all those books and clean them up, hurry! Back to work, you rude mongoose!”
Paint-man’s p*ssed, Suu slammed her hand against her mouth to press down a laugh.
“And oh, I’m not helping!” her old man grumbled from within the art studio. “You rude, mean, uncouth cat.”
“Oh noooo, biiiig scary woooords,” she mocked, the signboard creaking as she picked it up and pretended to drop it on the floor. “This poor cat’s fee-fees are sooo hurt,” she snickered, heading outside into the busy street. With no university classes today, it was going to be a long day at the store.
“Be careful with that!” Pa’s voice reached her in all its angry glory. Looking back over her shoulder, Suu’s grin stayed on as Pa stared at her as if she’d stolen his money. And as was tradition again, she stuck her tongue out at him and he mirrored her.
As ridiculous as it was, a part of her desperately wished these days would continue for a long, long time. Just like this year’s ridiculously long summer.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think.
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