Edith Frost was a rose nurtured by Earl Frost.

Countless times, she had clung to his strong frame, crying in his arms and pleading, "Earl, please love me."

She had resorted to cutting her wrists, threatening to jump off buildings, and drowning herself in severe depression just to keep him by her side.

Yet, in the end, it was Edith who ended his life with her own hands.

When Earl collapsed into a pool of blood, his eyes brimmed with disbelief. "Edith, you said you loved me."

Tears streamed down her face as Edith gently touched his cheek. "Earl, it's been ten years. Have you ever dreamed of them, even once?"

"In the dead of night, do you know what these years have been like for me?"

——

That night, when Earl stumbled home drunk, Edith locked his girlfriend out of the house.

She struggled to drag Earl onto the large bed in the master bedroom, her hands trembling as she touched and kissed him in the dark.

It was the eighth time.

The eighth time Edith had stolen a kiss from her brother in secret.

He was lost in a drunken haze. His large hands—strong and distinct—gripping her wrist as he muttered in a daze, "Edith, stop it." Edith was the name of the woman he loved.

Jealousy surged within Edith, but she swallowed it down, whispering in a trembling voice, "Earl..."

The moment his full name left her lips, a surge of forbidden excitement coursed through her, her blood pounding in her ears. Edith had never dared to call him by his full name before—not to his face.

Her lips quivered as she leaned closer to his reddened earlobe, whispering again and again, "Earl... Earl..."

Suddenly, he flipped her over, pinning her beneath him as he hugged her tightly. "Edith, be good," he murmured, his voice tender and gentle, as if soothing the woman he cherished most in the world.

His hands, warm and steady, carried the weight of a man’s love. His voice dripped with affection, but it wasn’t for her.

Of course, it wasn’t. Edith was the woman he adored.

And Edith? She was nothing more than an adopted sister, bound to him by neither blood nor love.

Ten years by his side couldn’t hold a candle to the six short months Edith had spent stealing all of his heart.

She curled up in Earl's arms, like a helpless, trembling hare.

It was unbearably hot.

Edith felt as though she was on fire, uncertain whether it was from jealousy or the heat radiating from his body.

With great effort, she stretched her hand out from under his arm and clung to him even tighter.

Earl, please don’t leave me.

The moonlight poured in softly, illuminating her delicate arms, pale as paper. The red string tied to her jade pendant glowed faintly, vivid as blood against her skin.

Earl’s breath brushed against her neck, warm and steady.

The world felt as if it had turned upside down.

His eyes fluttered open, hazy at first, but what he saw jolted him awake.

“Edith?”

Under the dim glow of the moonlight, Earl could make out the youthful, innocent face of the person beneath him.

In an instant, his muddled confusion gave way to clarity. Alarmed, he scrambled out of bed, his movements sharp and hurried.

“Why is it you?”

Fumbling, Earl reached for the light switch, his voice tinged with awkwardness and guilt.

“Sorry, I drank too much. I thought… I thought you were your sister-in-law…”

As the light flickered on, his words faltered, dying in his throat. He turned away abruptly, unable to face her.

There, standing before him in the pale light, was Edith—his 18-year-old adopted sister, standing in his room in the dead of night.

Although nothing improper had happened, their proximity, their contact, was enough to fill him with panic.

“It’s late. Why are you here?”

His voice was a mix of reprimand, discomfort, and command—an attempt. But it lacked any trace of affection.

Edith didn’t move. She stared at his turned back, her heart sinking like a shattered dream.

His avoidance, his refusal to meet her eyes, pierced her deeply.

Tears welled up quickly, blurring her vision, shimmering faintly under the harsh light. She remained motionless, her gaze fixed on him.

Earl kept his back to her, as though refusing to acknowledge her presence.

In the reflection of the window, they were a frozen tableau—a man and a woman locked in silence, their emotions unspoken but heavy in the air.

After a long silence, Edith bit her lip, her voice trembling as she choked out, "I just can’t compare to her, can I?"

Earl’s gaze lingered on Edith by the window, deep and unreadable. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

The room was silent, save for the sound of Edith’s muffled sobs.

He didn’t respond.

Edith buried her face in the quilt, showing him nothing but a lonely, retreating back.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Earl tossed a shirt onto the bed and walked out of the room without a hint of hesitation.

Before leaving, he spoke, his tone fainted but firm.

"Edith, I raised you for ten years after your parents left."

"I didn’t do it so you could learn to degrade yourself or act without shame like this."

Her tears soaked into the shirt he had thrown.

Degrade herself? Act without shame?

Earl… what am I to you?

The next morning, when Edith woke up, Earl had already left for the office.

A light drizzle fell outside, tapping softly against the windows.

On the dining table, a note awaited her in his familiar handwriting:

The milk is warm; drink it. Lunch is in the pot. The aunt will come by to wash the clothes.

He pretended nothing had happened, just like the past seven times.

Edith sneered bitterly at herself. She would be nineteen soon, not nine.

For ten years, he had been leaving notes like this, treating her as though she would never grow up.

Still, she obediently drank the milk and sent him an Instagram message: I’m done.

His reply was instant: You have a class at 1:30 PM. Don’t forget to go to school.

Earl had chosen Edith’s university—a ten-minute walk from home. He had refused to let her live on campus.

Her life had revolved around this house for as long as she could remember, her only excursions being to attend classes.

With her toothbrush in her mouth, she sent another message: Brother, let’s go to that new chicken wing place near the house tonight. It’s raining.

By the sink, her skincare products stood beside his facial cleanser. Their toothbrushes—matching electric ones, different only in style—rested side by side.

The pink rabbit-themed mouthwash cup was a set she had picked, and though he had grumbled about it, he used it anyway.

Earl… you say you can’t love me, yet our lives are so intertwined.

What about all the unspoken indulgence, the quiet doting, even the moments of tenderness?

Edith lifted her gaze to the mirror. The girl staring back had delicate eyebrows, eyes that seemed to hold secrets, and beauty as ephemeral as smoke and dreams. Yet, the faint vulnerability in her gaze always seemed to awaken a man’s instinct to protect.

That face—flawless and enchanting—had been plastered on the university’s confession wall the very first day she arrived. Everyone agreed: Edith was the most beautiful freshman at A University.

A notification from Earl lit up her phone: Another day. Today is Valentine’s Day—I promised to have dinner with Edith.

With a loud crack, the mirror shattered.

Edith again. It’s always her.

Earl hadn’t had dinner with Edith in a long time.

Edith feared rainy nights; her mother had died on one. Earl had once promised her that unless there was an unavoidable obligation, he would always come home on rainy nights to have dinner with her.

But Edith had broken promises over and over again.

Liar. They’re all liars.

Her knuckles brushed against the jagged fragments, sharp edges slicing into her skin. Blood began to drip onto the cold tiles.

Edith wiped her face, smearing blood across her cheeks, and then sat amidst the broken shards. She raised her injured hand, snapped a photo, and sent it to Earl.

She lay down on the icy ground, her phone glowing faintly in the corner of her vision as the screen lit up and dimmed.

Within half an hour, hurried footsteps echoed outside the door.

Earl burst in, his voice laced with panic. "Edith, what happened? Why are you bleeding?"

Edith remained on the floor, surrounded by the mess. She didn’t speak. She didn’t look at him. Tears streamed silently down her face.

With ease, Earl scooped her into his strong arms. His voice was exasperated but soft as he sighed, "You’re really made of water—always crying, aren’t you?"

He placed Edith gently on the sofa and knelt halfway to apply medicine to her hand. “Why are you always so careless?”

Earl’s movements were meticulous, his fingers light as he tended to the wound. Watching him, Edith couldn’t help but feel a pang in her heart.

“Brother,” she whimpered, hooking her pinky around his, her eyes welling with tears once more. “Do you really have to be with Edith?”

His hand froze momentarily but resumed its task as if her words hadn’t struck a nerve.

“Yes,” he replied calmly. “I’m almost thirty, and you’re an adult now. It’s time for me to settle down, and you should feel at ease starting your own life too.”

“Edith is a good girl,” he continued, his tone steady. “Don’t worry. She’ll treat you well. Even when we have children of our own in the future, you’ll always be my family. Everything I own will be divided equally between you.”

Such a generous, noble promise.

Edith should have been content with that.

She knew the truth—they weren’t related by blood. Earl had simply been a friend of her parents, taking her in after they passed and raising her for ten years, giving her a life of comfort and privilege.

She should have been grateful.

He was her family’s benefactor, wasn’t he?

But… but…

Tears glistened in her eyes as she looked at him. “Brother, I miss my parents.”

He acknowledged her softly. “Mm.”

Edith leaned her head on his shoulder, her voice trembling. “Do you miss them too?”

Earl didn’t push her away. Instead, he finished tying a neat bow on the bandage around her hand, capped the iodine bottle, and tidied up the medical kit. “Yes,” he said simply. “I do miss them.”

Nestled against him like a baby bird seeking warmth, Edith murmured, “It’s good to miss them.”

That evening, Edith came home carrying a beautifully packaged fruit basket.

Her long, wavy hair and flawless makeup radiated the confidence and charm of a mature woman.

Kicking off her high heels at the door, she stood barefoot until Earl handed her a pair of disposable slippers.

Edith slipped them on and looked down at her feet. The slippers were decorated with bright yellow ducks—playful and childish. She glanced over and saw Earl’s pair in blue, just as quirky and completely at odds with his usual polished demeanor of tailored suits and leather shoes.

She couldn’t suppress a giggle, covering her mouth with one hand. “Mr. Frost, wearing something so childish? It doesn’t suit you at all.”

Earl chuckled, his expression warm. “Children like them, so we just go along with it.”

Earl greeted Edith warmly, “Your sister heard about your injured hand and was so worried she insisted on coming to see you.”

His tone carried a subtle sense of pride, as though Edith’s kindness and thoughtfulness were his own achievements, something to be proud of, like a man boasting about his beloved.

Edith forced a sweet smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you, Aunt Edith.”

Edith laughed lightly, reaching out to touch her head. “Aunt? I’m only ten years older than you! Just call me sister.”

Carefully avoiding Edith’s injured hand, she gently guided her toward the fruit basket she’d brought. “I picked out some fruits for you. Make sure to take care of that hand.”

The fruit basket didn’t have much variety, but each item was something Edith loved.

Earl glanced at it with a trace of surprise. “You actually know what she likes to eat? That’s impressive. She’s a picky one.”

Edith’s smile grew, a touch of pride in her expression. “Of course! I care about her deeply.”

Her gaze, filled with affection, lingered on Edith as she spoke.

Yes, the more thoughtful she was toward Edith, the more it reflected how much she loved him.

Earl was like a clean, bright house filled with light, while Edith felt like a lonely crow perched in its shadow, forever out of place.

As the conversation continued, Edith unconsciously bit her lower lip, her emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

Carefully, Edith pulled out the fruits, revealing a teddy bear tucked at the bottom of the basket. She held it up with a triumphant smile, as though seeking approval.

“Last time I saw the old teddy bear in your room with its stuffing coming out, I searched high and low to find the exact same one. It must mean a lot to you, right?”

The surge of overwhelming love in her voice was undeniable, pressing in like a tide Edith couldn’t escape.

She felt like she might drown in it.

“I will love you, Edith,” Edith whispered, her words soft but resolute.