Chapter 57

The box was heavier than expected. Susan's fingers trembled as she lifted the lid, revealing a yellowed notebook nestled inside.

On the title page, crooked handwriting spelled out "For Mom." The ink had bled in places, as if soaked by tears.

"Mom, the doctor says I'm going to die soon," the first page began. "But I'm not scared. I just don’t want to leave you."

Susan's nails dug into her palms. The edges of the notebook were frayed, clearly turned countless times.

"You always called me your little sun," the childish scrawl continued. "But even the sun has to set. When I become a star, Mom, remember to look up at me."

The rustling of pages echoed sharply in the empty apartment.

"Yesterday, Nurse Auntie cried secretly. Don’t be like her, Mom. Daniel loves seeing you smile." Pinyin and characters mixed together, with simple doodles replacing words he couldn’t write. A lopsided smiley face was labeled "Mom’s smile."

Tucked in the middle was a photo. Three-year-old Daniel, in a hospital gown, flashed a peace sign at the camera. Behind him stretched the sterile white walls of the hospital.

"Uncle Murphy taught me to read!" another page suddenly declared. "He said Mom works too hard, so I need to grow up fast to protect you."

Susan’s vision blurred. On the back of the photo, a pencil had scribbled a date—the last day Vincent had visited them.

"Mom, don’t forgive that bad man." The pen strokes dug deep, nearly tearing the page. "He made you cry. Daniel is so angry. In my next life, I’ll grow taller than him and punch him into the sky!"

The last few pages grew erratic, sentences trailing off unfinished. The final entry held only half a phrase: "Mom, be hap—"

Susan snapped the notebook shut. Inside the back cover, a sticky note clung to the surface, bearing crooked musical notes on a staff. Beside it read: "Uncle Murphy’s 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.'"

A thunderclap cracked outside. Susan grabbed her coat and rushed out, only to collide with Andrew in the hallway, drenched from the rain.

He clutched a velvet box, his knuckles white. "Susan—"

She brushed past him without a word.

Rain dripped from her chin onto the notebook. In the backseat of the taxi, she noticed faint pencil marks on the last page—smudged by tears: "If Uncle Murphy becomes a bad man too, Mom, just ignore him. Daniel will be a real star and protect you."

The glass facade of King Corporation twisted in the downpour. As the elevator numbers climbed, Susan’s fingers brushed the faint mark on her ring finger—where a soda can tab "ring" from Vincent had once rested.

"Floor 58," chimed the automated voice.

At the end of the hall, Vincent stood in his crisp suit, speaking to his secretary. The man who once knelt on the floor building blocks with Daniel was now unrecognizable.

Susan froze. The notebook in her arms burned like it held the sun of an entire summer.