The dining hall of the Crystal Estate was grand, bathed in the soft glow of the chandelier above. The long mahogany table, polished to perfection, gleamed under the dim lighting, but despite its elegance, the atmosphere at the table was anything but warm.
Cherry Crystal sat across from her father, Ethan, her fork idly pushing around the food on her plate. The silence between them stretched, thick and suffocating, broken only by the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain.
Dinner had always been like this—a quiet ritual between a father and daughter who had never truly learned how to talk to each other.
Cherry glanced up at her father. Ethan Crystal, the man who built an empire from nothing, was once an imposing figure, his sharp blue eyes capable of making board members squirm with a single glance. But now, sitting across from her, he looked smaller, aged beyond his years, his once-powerful presence fading like a dying flame.
Yet, his gaze was sharp as ever as he finally spoke.
"You found it, didn't you?"
Cherry froze.
She looked up, meeting his eyes. "What?"
Ethan leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "The diary."
Cherry's fingers tightened around her fork. She didn't have to ask how he knew—her father had a way of knowing things without being told.
"It was your right," he said, his voice quieter this time. "Your mother left it behind. And she left it for you."
Cherry swallowed. She wanted to ask him why he had never spoken about it—why he had let her mother's words gather dust in a forgotten chest. But something about the way he sat there, staring at his untouched meal, made her hesitate.
"She was a writer," he murmured. "Not just in that diary, but in everything. Letters, notes… She wrote more than she spoke."
Cherry didn't respond.
She had spent years believing that her father had loved her mother in his own quiet way. But the moment she had opened those unsent letters, she had started questioning everything.
"Are you going to read it?" Ethan asked.
Cherry exhaled slowly. "Yes."
A flicker of something crossed his face—relief? Guilt? She couldn't tell.
"She would have wanted that." His voice was barely above a whisper.
A silence settled between them once again, heavier this time. Cherry thought about pushing him for more—for the truth. But she wasn't ready yet. Not until she had read everything.
Instead, she placed her napkin beside her plate, pushing her chair back. "I think I'll turn in early."
Ethan nodded, but he didn't say anything more.
As she left the dining hall, she couldn't shake the feeling that her father already knew what was coming.
---
A Window into the Past
Cherry sat on her bed, the diary resting on her lap like a forbidden artifact. The cover was old, the leather worn at the edges, but it still felt alive in her hands, as if it held pieces of a world long gone.
She took a deep breath and opened it.
June 5th
"I saw the most beautiful sunrise today. The sky turned from orange to pink, and it felt like the world was welcoming me with open arms. I think today will be a good day."
Cherry blinked.
This was… different than she had expected.
She had braced herself for sorrow, for pain. But instead, her mother's words were filled with light.
She turned the page.
June 12th
"Father let me bake with him today! I tried making chocolate cookies, but I forgot to add sugar at first. He laughed so much that I almost dropped the entire tray. But in the end, they turned out just fine! I wish days like these would last forever."
Cherry's heart clenched.
She had never met her maternal grandparents. They had died before she was old enough to remember them, and her father never spoke of them.
But here, in her mother's words, they were alive.
Her mother had loved them.
Turning another page, she found a description of them:
"My father is the kindest man in the world. He loves gardening, and every morning, he waters his roses before breakfast. He says that taking care of something small and beautiful is the secret to a happy life. I think that's why he and Mother love each other so much. They have the kind of love that feels easy, like breathing. I wonder if I'll ever have that."
Cherry swallowed hard.
Her mother had believed in love.
She flipped to another entry.
June 20th
"Mother braided my hair today while humming that old song she always sings. She says I should always smile because my dimples make me look like I have little stars on my cheeks. I told her that's silly, but she just kissed my forehead and said, 'One day, someone will see the stars in you too.'"
A lump formed in Cherry's throat.
Dimples.
She had never known her mother had dimples.
She had never known that she laughed so easily, that she had loved baking, that she had watched sunrises and believed in happiness.
She had only known the version of her mother that existed in photographs—quiet, distant, always carrying a sadness that Cherry had never understood.
But this girl—this Anaya—
She was bright. Full of life. Full of dreams.
Cherry turned the page, eager for more.
June 28th
"My brother says I talk too much. I told him it's because I have so many things to say! He just rolled his eyes, but I know he loves me. Even if he pretends not to."
Cherry let out a shaky breath.
Her mother and her uncle had been close.
She had always sensed there was tension between him and her father. But now, she wondered if her uncle resented Ethan not just for how he had treated Anaya, but for the way he had changed her.
For taking away the girl who had once written about sunrises and laughter.
Cherry turned another page, but this time, she hesitated.
Because she knew—the deeper she went, the closer she would get to the truth.
And the truth was no longer something she was sure she was ready for.
She exhaled and shut the diary.
You want to read it all right now but she can't because she wanted to hold onto this version of her mother a little longer.
The version that had dimples when she smiled.
The version who had once believed in love.
And for the first time in a long time, Cherry found herself wondering—
When had her mother stopped believing?