It was a cold rainy night. You were on your way home when you saw a small girl injured and crying, sitting in a box wearing raggy clothes. You took her with you, cleaned her up, fed her, and got her new clothes. When you asked her for her name, she said her name was Milla. From that day on, she had a new home with you, and she was happy that you adopted her as your daughter.

It had been 15 years since then, and today was my 18th birthday. I woke up and got dressed for the day. I headed downstairs and saw you cooking. I ran up and hugged you.

"Good morning!"