Chapter 6: The First Pages of the Past

The air in Cherry's room felt heavier now. She had been waiting for this moment, the moment when the dusty chest finally revealed its secrets, and the contents of her mother's diary would begin to tell a story she had never known. The contents inside the chest had drawn her back like an unspoken promise, a yearning for answers that had long eluded her. But with the chest open and the pages of the diary now within her reach, a new wave of uncertainty washed over her.

Cherry sat down on the bed, the soft glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains. She hesitated for a moment, fingers hovering over the leather-bound book. The intricate golden clasp on the side caught her eye—delicate, yet firm, as though it held not just paper, but a lifetime of untold truths. Slowly, she released the clasp, the soft click seeming louder in the silence of the room.

Taking a deep breath, Cherry opened the diary.

The first page was filled with a swirl of ink, the writing neat and elegant, as though each letter had been carefully crafted. It was dated October 12th, 1990, almost a decade before Cherry's birth.

"I can't help but smile as I write this, Ethan is here again. He doesn't know that I see him differently, that I feel the weight of each glance we share. He's always so close yet so far away. Sometimes I think he notices me, but it's fleeting. It's like watching the moon; you know it's there, so close, but just out of reach."

Cherry paused, reading the words again. The weight of her mother's feelings was palpable in those short sentences. She could almost feel Anaya's longing, the quiet ache that had taken root in her heart long before Cherry ever existed. She skimmed over a few more lines, her eyes gliding across the page as the story of a young Anaya began to emerge—one filled with hope, innocence, and an unspoken admiration for a man who seemed, at first glance, to have no interest in her.

"He came over today with that same gentle smile, talking about his plans for the future. How he wants to build something, to make something of himself. I want to help him so badly, to be there for him, to show him that he doesn't have to do it alone. But he doesn't need me. Not like I need him."

Cherry's breath caught in her throat. This was the first glimpse into the woman who had been her mother, but it wasn't the picture of the strong, stoic figure she had always known. Instead, it was a picture of a young woman, hopeful and vulnerable. Cherry could picture her mother as she read the lines—sitting at a desk, eyes filled with dreams, her pen flowing with the rhythm of love that, at the time, seemed impossible to attain.

Cherry felt a lump form in her throat as she flipped to the next entry, one dated November 3rd, 2023

"I saw him again today. It's becoming harder and harder to keep my feelings a secret. Every time he smiles, my heart skips a beat. He doesn't know how much I love him, how deeply I've fallen for him. I wonder if he ever sees me, if he notices how much I want to be there for him. I've been helping him more lately with his studies—he's so focused on his work, but sometimes, I see a sadness in his eyes, a sadness I want to fix. I wish I could be the one to take it away, to make him happy, but I know I'm not the one."

Cherry's fingers tightened around the edges of the page. The words on the paper were so raw, so full of pain and longing. Anaya's love had been silent, unnoticed, and unrequited. Cherry had never imagined her mother in such a light—a woman who had been so deeply in love with someone who, at that time, had no idea of her feelings.

The entries grew more intense as Cherry continued to read. Anaya's words became increasingly filled with longing, frustration, and quiet resignation. She loved Ethan deeply, but it was a love that would never be returned. Ethan, at this time, was still in love with someone else—the woman he would eventually marry, but who would later leave him for reasons Cherry had yet to uncover.

The diary didn't paint a picture of a perfect romance. Instead, it was filled with the struggles of unrequited love. Each page revealed more of Anaya's inner turmoil. Her admiration for Ethan, the man she had secretly loved for years, was evident, but her heart ached with the knowledge that he could never love her in return.

It was in the following pages that Cherry began to understand her mother's personality. Anaya had been cheerful, with a laughter that could light up a room, and a smile that seemed to hold the warmth of the sun. The words in the diary spoke of her vibrant personality—how she made friends easily, how she was always the life of the party. Cherry had never known this version of her mother—the one who wasn't burdened by the weight of rejection, the one who had hopes and dreams outside of Ethan's shadow.

As Cherry turned the pages, she came across a drawing—one of many tucked between the journal's leaves. It was a portrait of a young man, his features strong and confident. The face was so familiar, and as her eyes scanned it, she realized it was a sketch of Ethan. The drawing captured his profile in delicate lines—eyes, jawline, the curve of his lips. It was clear that her mother had poured her heart into this image. The portrait wasn't just a drawing; it was an expression of Anaya's feelings, a way for her to immortalize Ethan in a way words could not.

There were several more sketches like this—each one more intimate, more detailed than the last. It was as though Anaya had wanted to capture Ethan's essence on paper, something that would allow her to hold on to him, even if he could never truly be hers.

Cherry's fingers hovered over another piece of paper—this one slightly crinkled, the ink faded with time. She carefully unfolded it, her heart skipping a beat as she saw the contents. It was a letter, written by Anaya but never sent. The words were so familiar—Cherry had seen them in the diary before, but this time they felt different. The words on the paper spoke of a love that could never be returned, of feelings that had never been shared aloud.

"I don't know if I'll ever have the courage to give this to you, but I need you to know, Ethan, how much I love you. I've always loved you. And I don't want to be just the friend you rely on. I want to be more. But I can't say it out loud. Maybe it's better this way. Maybe it's better if you never know."

Cherry's hand trembled as she read the last line. The pain her mother must have felt in keeping all these emotions inside, never once sharing them with Ethan, was almost unbearable. The words in the letter were so simple, yet so profound. Cherry could almost feel her mother's presence in the room as she read them—an echo of the woman she had lost.

Suddenly, she heard a voice from outside her room, a familiar voice. Ethan's voice, soft and distant, hummed the same melody she had heard him sing under the cherry blossom tree. The song echoed through the walls, reminding her of the connection between her parents—the love that had never fully bloomed, the love that had been left unspoken for far too long.

Cherry closed the diary gently, her hands shaking. There was so much more to uncover. But for now, she needed time to absorb everything she had just read. The past was slowly unfolding before her eyes, and the truth about her parents' love, their pain, and their unspoken feelings was becoming clearer with each passing moment.

As she placed the diary back into the chest, she realized that this was only the beginning. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, and soon, she would have to confront the reality of the love that had shaped her family.