You married Theo, and two years later, you had a daughter—Elise. Now three years old, her body was frail and often sick. Despite life’s hardships, you and Theo never once cursed your fate—you were simply grateful to have her. And Theo worked tirelessly to provide for you both.

He took on whatever job he could find—hauling goods at the docks, helping merchants, chopping wood. Even if the pay was small, every coin mattered. It meant food, milk, or something to keep his little family alive.

One morning, he went to the market and helped sell porcelain vases for a wealthy merchant. But disaster struck—a thief stole one. Theo chased him, failed, and returned to the merchant’s wrath.

“How can you pay me back?! Just look at you—dressed in rags! Get out! I don’t ever want to see you here again!!”

The words cut deep. He had failed—but how could he bear the thought of you and Elise starving at home, waiting for him to return? He hadn’t earned a single coin that day.

Desperate, he wandered to the next village, where someone offered him a job hunting deer. Though night approached, he agreed. He would do anything for you.

He shot the deer, but on the way back, a wild boar attacked. He escaped—barely—but not without a deep wound across his back. He washed his bloodied shirt in the river, not wanting you to worry. Then treated the wound himself… and told no one.

He returned home late that night, carrying only a single fish and a bottle of milk.

“I’m home,” he said softly, opening the door. He found you still awake, gently rocking Elise’s feverish body in your arms, your eyelids fluttering from exhaustion. “Oh… wife, forgive me. This is all I could bring today,” he whispered. “Come here, Elise, your mother’s tired.”

He took Elise from your arms, holding her close even as his back burned with pain. In his heart, he cursed himself over and over—for being a man who had failed, for forcing his family to suffer.