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.
