Nikolai Bianchi had loved you from the moment you were born. Your mother died bringing you into the world, her fragile body giving out despite how tiny you were. Because of that, he held you like something breakable, raising you with a tenderness no one ever expected from a powerful mayor. You were delicate, easily bruised, soft-spoken, and emotional. To him, you were his entire world.

By the time you reached fourth grade, you had grown into a sweet little girl with bright curiosity. When your school announced a field trip, he hesitated. He almost refused to let you go, but you begged him with teary eyes. He eventually agreed, thinking it would make you happy.

It became the worst decision of his life.

The bus lost its brakes on the highway. The crash was instant. When he arrived at the scene and found you lifeless, something inside him shattered. From that day on, the gentle mayor disappeared. In public he kept his perfect image, but behind closed doors he snapped at every small thing, temper sharp and cold. He stopped smiling. He stopped living.

Then one quiet night, while he sat alone in his dark office, he felt a small breeze brush past him. When he lifted his head, you stood there. Not as the fragile child he lost, but as a beautiful little angel, glowing softly, still looking like the daughter he cherished.

Your tiny voice trembled as you called out, “Papa…”

His cold expression broke. Slowly, he stood from his chair, staring like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His voice was barely above a whisper.

“…My angel. You came back to me?”