The heavy rain, the car accident, the dim and flickering lights in the prison. Edith’s small, trembling hand gripped tightly, and when she looked up, her father’s desperate, ashen eyes stared back at her—

Countless fragmented memories pieced themselves together into a nightmare Edith would never escape.

“Ah—!”

Her scream pierced the silence.

Earl quickly stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. Edith clutched at her ears, wailing in sheer panic, her body trembling as though the fear would tear her apart.

“What happened? What did I do?” Edith sobbed, her hands shaking uncontrollably. “I’m sorry—what happened?”

Earl shushed her gently, signaling her to stay calm as he carried her into the bedroom.

But Edith fought to free herself, her nails clawing at his arms, leaving three bloodied scratches. She scrambled onto the bed, cocooning herself in the quilt, trembling like a trapped bird.

Earl tugged at the quilt twice but couldn’t pull her free. Realizing her distress, he left to speak with Edith, the murmurs of their conversation drifting faintly through the ajar door.

“Her father gave her a birthday gift when she was nine…”

“…the next day, arrested… company financial disputes…”

“…his last gift… a happy family…”

“…she loved him so much…”

The whispers grew quieter, eventually fading away altogether.

Earl returned and shut the door, but not before Edith caught a glimpse of his face through the narrow crack—a profile steeped in pity, his gaze soft as he embraced Edith. Their two shadows, elongated and entwined, flickered briefly on the wall.

Yet, despite his presence, he didn’t meet her eyes. He didn’t turn back.

Even when Edith’s cries turned hoarse, reduced to choked sobs, he remained silent.

That night, Edith cried until her voice broke, just as she had when she first came to Earl’s house—a fragile child, her parents gone in the blink of an eye. Her only resistance against a cruel world was tears.

Earl had stayed with her then, cradling her small body all night, coaxing her out from beneath the quilt with infinite patience.

“Don’t be afraid, Edith. I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

But now, those scars—her scars—were merely a story he used to comfort another woman, all to excuse his sister’s rudeness.

Edith traced the red string jade pendant her mother had left her, its cold surface grounding her fleeting sense of reality. She longed to retreat into a dreamless abyss, where even memories couldn’t reach her.

Earl, you shaped my life, made it, so I had only you to hold on to.

But when others needed you, you left me behind without a second glance.

She couldn’t understand—truly, she couldn’t.

After seeing Edith out, Earl returned, letting out a sigh.

“You scared your Aunt Edith,” he said.

Edith stared at him, her voice trembling.

“Brother, why didn’t you care about me just now?”

Earl’s tone was calm but firm.

“Because she’s my girlfriend.”

Edith’s voice rose, frustration spilling out.

“Then why didn’t she apologize to me?”

Earl’s brows furrowed as he asked, “Why should she apologize to you?”

“She pities me, Brother. She looks down on me!” Edith’s voice cracked as her emotions boiled over. “I don’t need her sympathy or her self-righteous pity. She’s rubbing salt into my wounds! Does she think everyone’s life is as happy and perfect as hers? Does she think no one can see her sense of superiority? Who even wants her charity—”

She stopped herself, shaking with anger.

Edith—the woman who was a powerhouse in the business world but naive and soft-hearted in front of Earl.

She had everything. Two loving parents, a privileged upbringing, and a family that adored her unconditionally. She had grown up in a life of comfort and wealth, her path lined with opportunities—college, graduate school, and a finance career in the United States. Upon returning, she had become Earl’s most trusted partner.

Half of Edith’s expensive wardrobe was funded by her own success.

Smart, beautiful, and confident, Edith was like a flaming rose—vibrant and untouchable. But she always looked down at Edith, seeing her as nothing more than a child.

And now, she had effortlessly claimed the only person Edith had in the world.

“Enough!” Earl’s sharp voice cut through the room, his expression cold and unyielding.

Edith froze, stunned. She had never seen him so stern before.

“Edith,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “She’s your future sister-in-law. You need to learn to respect her. Do you understand?”

Edith’s heart trembled as she burst into tears, throwing herself into his arms.

“Brother, I only have you. Please don’t leave me.”

Earl’s expression shifted, his body tensing, but he held her steady. He gently rubbed her hair, his voice soft.

“Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid… I’ll always be here for you, Edith.”

The memories came rushing back—those rainy nights spent nestled together in the safety of their warm, sturdy home, the shared duck slippers and matching towels that became part of their daily rhythm, and the unspoken desires and forbidden affection that had grown between them, undeniable and unshakable.

“Earl,” Edith whispered, her voice trembling. “Will you love me?”

She saw it—the storm of emotions in his eyes, roiling like a thunderstorm, dark clouds colliding with streaks of lightning.

Earl gazed at her deeply, his chest rising and falling with his uneven breath, but then his gaze dropped.

“Yes,” he said finally, his voice steady but distant. “I will love you. You’re the child I raised with my own hands.”

Edith bit back her sobs, forcing herself to smile.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “Then let me move out so Edith can move in.”

Earl stiffened, his face darkened.

“If I fall in love in the future,” she continued, “it’ll be inconvenient to live at home.”

Earl cut her off immediately. “No.”

“Why not? Is it that I can’t move out, or that I can’t fall in love?”

“Neither,” he said firmly. “You’re still young.”

“I’m an adult,” she argued.

“You don’t have a job, no income. How will you support yourself?”

“You could give me an allowance, like my classmates’ parents do. Besides, the money you’ve given me already is enough for me to live comfortably for three lifetimes.”

Earl exhaled sharply, his patience wearing thin.

“In short, no.”

They locked eyes, the tension between them thick enough to cut. Earl’s gaze was implacable, leaving no room for negotiation.

Finally, Edith spoke again, her voice low and unwavering.

“Brother, don’t regret this.”

After that, Edith didn’t see Edith for a long time.

Following that night, Earl barely mentioned her name around Edith. He did, however, agree to buy a few gifts on Edith’s behalf, saying it was an apology for her earlier behavior—an act of guilt and atonement for her recklessness and misplaced superiority.

But Edith didn’t care about any of it.

What mattered to her was that her birthday was only ten days away.

Edith loved celebrating her birthday. On that day, she became the center of the universe, the most important person in the world. And for one fleeting moment, everyone’s attention would be focused solely on wishing her happiness.

Before she turned nine, it was her parents who were her world; after that, it was Earl.

Every birthday wish Edith made with heartfelt sincerity felt sacred and unbreakable, carrying the promise of coming true.

When the clock struck midnight on her birthday, Edith would light a small lamp by her bedside and read through her mother’s diary.

She’d immerse herself in the tender words written to her and about her.

That quiet ritual was the most cherished moment of her year.

“I have a birthday next week!” Edith announced cheerfully one morning.

Earl, on his way out the door, smiled warmly. “I haven’t forgotten. Let’s celebrate with dinner at home that night, alright?”

Edith’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Okay! I’ll cook!”

Earl looked genuinely surprised. “Our Edith can cook? Now that’s something I can’t miss—even if it rains knives from the sky, I’ll be there.”

As the days on the calendar flipped by, her anticipation grew, and finally, her special day arrived.

There were no classes that day, so Edith spent the entire afternoon in the kitchen, determined to prepare a proper meal.

Cooking was unfamiliar territory for her; Earl rarely let her do it. She fumbled her way through, earning two blisters from the heat and a small cut on her thumb while chopping vegetables.

Still, she pressed on, ignoring the sting of her injuries.

By the time the sun was setting, she had managed to prepare a modest spread of dishes. She carefully arranged them on the table, placing the cake at the center, surrounded by flowers and candles she’d bought for decoration.

The flickering candlelight gave the room a warm glow, and Edith couldn’t help but feel proud of her effort.

She picked up her phone to text Earl, asking when he’d be home.

The message went unanswered. The phone stayed silent.

Six o’clock arrived, and with it came the soft hues of dusk. Outside, the world moved on. Pedestrians hurried by, and workers crowded the vegetable stalls below.

Still, there was no reply from Earl.

Edith waited, her patience unwavering.

At seven o'clock, the sky had already darkened, and the electric cars passing by were turning on their headlights.

She had made several calls, but no one answered. Edith had resolved in her mind that if Earl came home tonight, she wouldn’t give him an easy time. It would take at least an hour of coaxing before they could make amends.

By eight o'clock, the darkness had fully settled in, and even the vendors had closed their stalls for the night.

The dishes on the table had been reheated twice, only to cool again. The cake had collapsed slightly, and Edith carefully picked it up, placing it gently in the refrigerator.

Anxiety began to creep into her thoughts. Earl had never broken a promise to her before. He hadn’t replied to her messages, couldn’t be reached by phone, and now darkness had enveloped the house. Was something wrong? Had something happened—maybe a car accident?

Edith’s heart pounded, and with every guess, her anxiety grew. She kept calling Earl, only to be met with silence.

When Earl was unreachable, she couldn’t contact anyone close to him either. Her mind raced, and she was frantically moving about the room like a headless fly.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

It was an Fedex delivery man, holding a large, beautifully packaged box.

“Mr. Earl’s house, right? You’ve got a package. Please sign for it.”

Relief washed over Edith, and a small smile formed as she signed her name, writing “Edith” neatly on the line.

She felt a spark of excitement. It had to be her birthday gift, right? Earl hadn’t responded to her messages, so maybe this was his way of making it up—surprising her with fireworks, ribbons, balloons, and flowers.

Suppressing her joy, Edith opened the package carefully.

Inside was a set of high-end anti-aging skincare products. At twenty years old, she had officially entered adulthood, and it was time to transition her skincare to a more mature line.

Edith examined the products happily, ready to use them that night. She thought, despite her anger, that Earl’s thoughtfulness was something worth appreciating.

At the bottom of the box, however, was a branded greeting card. Edith hummed softly as she unwrapped it, exciting building.

But the moment she saw the printed words, her heart stopped.

The words were clear:

Dear Edith.

Not Edith.

This was meant for Edith.

Not for her.

Edith’s hands trembled—not from excitement, but from fury and pain.

She threw the gift box down with force. The glass bottles shattered into pieces, and the essence spilled onto the floor.

“This is your last chance, Earl,” she whispered to herself, staring at the mess. “If you come back with a cake and a gift, I might forgive you for this.”

Edith leaned back against the door, watching the clock silently tick toward midnight.

Outside, the house was silent.

At one o'clock in the morning, a loud knock echoed through the stillness.

“Edith! Open the door!”

No response came from inside.

The voice grew anxious, desperate. “Edith? Speak to me!”

Footsteps retreated—Earl must have gone to the property management office for a spare key.

A loud thud echoed as the door was opened forcefully. Edith, sitting behind the door, was flung to the ground, her body colliding with shattered skincare products.

Earl’s face was red and dry, his eyes filled with worry.

Behind Edith, a candle had long since burned out, and a table laden with cold, forgotten food sat untouched.

Anyone who saw the scene would know—this was a birthday that had been carefully prepared, but no one had cared to show up.