Diary of Fragile Heart (Spin of Loving You Too Long)

Tamagoyaki-Rolled omelet. Beef teriyaki. Miso soup. Flavia is preparing ingredients and seasonings to make the three dishes her mother desires. Simultaneously, Abigail enters with an order note in her hand.

They cook dishes with most of the main ingredients already available, so it doesn’t take long for them to finish and serve. Abigail places some of the cooked food on a tray and takes it out of the kitchen. Shortly afterward, she returns and places more food on the tray. This time, Flavia follows her with a tray containing food in her hands.

She pauses when she sees the figure at the table with her family. Flavia swallows, trying to steady her heartbeat before continuing her steps.

“Mom’s order!” Flavia hears her stepmother clap her hands and cheer as Flavia places the steaming dishes in front of her.

“Finish it, Ma. Don’t leave anything.” Flavia instructs politely. Without being asked, her mother eagerly nods and starts reaching for the spoon.

Claire sips her soup and happily murmurs, “Mmm… Delicious.” She takes another sip. Ignazio looks at his mother and is about to use his spoon to try the soup in front of him, but Claire quickly taps her spoon against Ignazio’s. “No, dear. This is especially for Mama. Don’t ask.” She commands. Ignazio pouts, looking at his mom. Flavia, Abigail, and Antony laugh together. Gladwin just stares at Flavia.

“Mama, just a tiny taste, pleeeaaase.” Ignazio pleads with a cute, pleading face.

“No, dear. Just ask your sister if you want.” Claire replies, once again sipping her soup playfully to tease Ignazio.

“Mama, ugh, Mama doesn’t love me.” Ignazio pouts again. “Just be careful, if I have delicious food, I won’t share it with you.” He then spoons a large tempura into his mouth.

“Zio, just ask your sister to make it for you.” His father suggests subtly.

“I don’t want a new one, Papa. I want to taste Mama’s.” His younger brother insists. This scene is something they’re used to seeing. For some reason, Ignazio always wants to try the food his mother is eating and always refuses to order the same dish. Strangely, Claire also always refuses to share her food unless Ignazio does something for her first.

“Do you want some?” Claire asks. Ignazio nods. “Give Mama a kiss first.” Claire taps her index finger on her right cheek. Ignazio stopped kissing his mom when he entered elementary school. His reason was that he had grown up and felt it was no longer appropriate to kiss his mom.This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

“Mama, ugh…” he whines.

“Kiss me, or else don’t want it.” Claire sips her soup again, glancing at Ignazio. Ignazio gives in. He finally rises from his seat and quickly kisses his mom’s cheek. “What’s that? It tastes like nothing.” Claire looks at Ignazio. Ignazio pouts. His chubby fingers hold Claire’s jaw, and his red lips peck her right cheek.

“Enough.” He says sarcastically.

“Why is Mama so biased?” Claire continues. She turns her head to the right and taps her left cheek with her left index finger. Ignazio pouts. He adjusts his glasses before kissing his mom’s left cheek. “Good.” Claire praises happily, ignoring Ignazio’s sulking face. She slides her bowl, giving permission for Ignazio to try her food.

Meanwhile, Francisca seems unaware of the war between her mother and her older brother. She is engrossed in her meal. After enjoying the drama between the mother and son, they resume their meal.

A few hours later, Flavia sits quietly on the balcony of her house. Her private residence, not her parents’. After having a meal together at the cafe, she finally decided to go home, and Abigail agreed to drive her. Considering that Flavia’s house is located far from the city center and on a high plateau, Abigail is afraid that Flavia might opt for an online taxi if she goes home alone.

“If people passing by see you like this, sitting alone under the shady tree. It feels a bit spooky, you know?” Abigail comments as she enters Flavia’s room, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate.

Flavia smiles at her, understanding the reason behind her friend’s comment. Because right now, she is wearing a white knee-length short-sleeved nightdress, with her long black hair cascading down to her waist.

In her own home, Flavia feels free to wear anything. She has on a knee-length short-sleeved nightdress with a square neckline, revealing a bit of her graceful neck. Her freshly washed hair is left to air-dry, and her skin looks fair and healthy.

Abigail places Flavia’s mug on the round rattan table with a clear glass top. Afterward, she chooses to sit on the egg-shaped rattan swing, adorned with soft square red pillows, her favorite spot in Flavia’s room. Meanwhile, Flavia sits on a long rattan chair, also painted white, with soft cushions that provide support for her seat and back. Flavia sits with her knees hugged, allowing them to sink into the nightdress she’s wearing.

“If only I knew it would turn out like this, I would probably have negotiated to split the land in half. We could be neighbors,” she says while sipping her drink. They both gaze at the expanse of the city settlements in the distance. The twinkling lights resemble starbursts in their eyes. Only occasionally, the noisy sounds of passing vehicles disturb the peace around Flavia’s residence. The distance between Flavia’s house and the neighbor’s is nearly thirty meters.

“You wouldn’t fit living in a place like this,” Flavia responds. “Too far from the city. Less flexible. If Mama says so, this area is more suitable for retirees.” Flavia reaches for her mug and inhales the scent of the chocolate she likes.

“Auntie is right. But once in a while, it’s nice too. Comfortable, serene, no one bothering you,” Abigail replies again. Abigail suddenly sighs. “I see the way he looks at you, Via.” Abigail’s words make Flavia grip her mug tightly. “Are you sure you want to give up?”

Flavia remains silent for a moment before turning to Abigail. She pulls up her nightdress, revealing her calf and left thigh to Abigail without saying much, and Abigail understands the intention of her friend’s action. However, Abigail doesn’t give up easily.

“He’s a doctor. He will understand your condition. You can fight together. Especially what happened to you, it’s because you want to be with him.” Abigail looks at her friend with a melancholic gaze. She knows this is a topic Flavia avoids. But she also wants her friend and uncle to fight together.

“He’s not at fault, he doesn’t know anything. This is all fate that I have to accept. And not being with him, that’s my choice. I don’t want him to be with me out of guilt because it’s not his fault. And even if Uncle has the same feelings as what I feel for him, what about Grandma?” Flavia chooses to stand. She leans her back against the balcony railing, folds her arms across her chest, and smiles at Abigail. “I don’t care about people’s opinions, Abby. Seriously, I don’t. But what about Grandma? She really wants grandchildren, and she knows my condition.”

Abigail also stands. She places both hands on the balcony railing and gazes into the distance. “Don’t be too pessimistic, Via. Doctors are only human. They can only guess.”