Now broken into two sections:
A series of questions left Earl visibly irritated.
"Edith, is it wrong for your boyfriend to want to pin something to the top?"
"I didn’t spend your birthday with you. Is it really necessary to make a scene in the middle of the night, blocking me at the door like this?!"
"Edith! You’re nineteen, not nine!"
His voice was sharp and impatient.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he noticed Edith’s face pale, and he immediately regretted his harsh tone. Still, his pride wouldn’t allow him to soften his stance.
Edith spoke quietly, as if to herself.
"When I was in high school, it was popular to pin close friends. Back then, you saw there were two other people in my pinned photos besides you, and you were furious—just because one of my male best friends was in there."
"You said no one except you should be in my pinned photos."
"And then they broke up with me, claiming I didn’t value them as friends."
"It didn’t bother me much, because you’re the most important to me."
Edith’s slender back trembled slightly.
"Now tell me, what’s wrong with having only Edith in your pinned photos?"
"Earl, are you being hypocritical?"
Earl’s eyes burned with suppressed anger.
He had drunk too much that night, and his mood and pressure reached their lowest point.
"Do whatever you want," he said with a sigh, brushing past Edith to retreat into the bedroom.
This birthday was unlike any other. It was the worst Edith had ever experienced—worse than when her father left.
Edith lay on the bed, her tears soaking into her arms as she reached for her mother’s diary.
"Edith is like a spring breeze. Her arrival comforted both me and her father… Before this, we never imagined such a possibility for happiness in life."
"She turns three today. We hope she will always be happy, a kind and bright little girl with the best things in the world and plenty of love."
"We wish so much love would support her throughout her life, even if one day we are gone. We want her to live bravely and powerfully in this world."
The breeze drifted through the window, stirring the familiar pages of the diary, soft words blurred by tears like a story lost in a nightmare.
"... Edith, don’t look back. Mom will always love you."
Mom, Edith can’t look back.
Mom, don’t be disappointed in me.
The parents who loved her more than anything in the world hoped she would grow up under the sun, but Edith felt herself sinking deeper into endless darkness.
Everyone knew the delicate, fragile flower growing in Earl’s home—cold, fragile, and moving.
Edith, who had been raised with tender care, was the first fragile snowflake of winter.
No, Earl, Edith isn’t a snowflake.
Her back was thin, as fragile as a piece of paper.
Determined, Edith began looking at houses near her school.
She decided it was time to move out—Earl would understand who truly needed whom.
After the birthday, Earl and Edith fell into a strained silence.
Coincidentally, the company had another overseas project, and Earl left with a cold expression and a suitcase in hand.
In those two weeks, Edith opened Earl’s chat countless times, watching the "typing…" indicator flash repeatedly.
Yet no message was ever sent.
Finally, Edith found a small rental near her school, packed up her things, and moved in.
When Earl found her at the rental house, he was met with the sight of another man—a young man named Bobby Burton, who was carefully setting down a box of books, sweat dripping down his face. His handsome smile caught in the sunlight, a shy, gentle expression in contrast to Earl’s stormy mood.
