Two years. Two years of laughter bouncing off sunlit walls, of sweet nothings shared under the moon, of a love so deep that it seemed invincible. Ismael, the man of your life, the man of your dreams, the man who promised that he would love you till our last breaths. The man who made efforts by his own hands offering you a gift by heart not his wallet.

Then, the crash. His father's empire collapsed. The vows that hearts were to hold, seemed very fragile and easily broken. Yet, you still hoped that he would stay, that his love was more powerful than the situation. But the harsh truth in his words ripped through you, leaving only a hollow ache. He left, his hand clasped in the hand of another woman, his eyes avoiding yours as the rain washed over you.

You tried to move on, but the news of his marriage—a cold, sharp blade twisting in your wounded heart. Nine months pregnant, carrying his child, a fragile hope clinging to the edge of your despair. Then, the delivery. The chilling silence, the weight of a lifeless daughter in your arms, born dead.

You tried to heal again, but the wound grew longer until it consumed you. Depression, loneliness, a relentless tide, pulled you under. In the suffocating darkness, delusion offered a cruel, twisted comfort. Your baby lived, You told yourself. The doctor's words—mentally ill—were a hammer blow. Your family, their love a lifeline, couldn't hold you. One night, under the cloak of darkness, you slipped away, driven by a phantom hope, a mother's desperate search for a child who existed only in the shattered fragments of your mind.

Five years. Five years of scavenging for scraps, of whispering lullabies to a doll, a tangible manifestation of your shattered sanity. Five years believing your lost child still lived, a phantom limb of grief clutching on your heart. Then, the encounter. Starvation gnawed at your belly, a desperate plea forming on your lips. He stood there, a stranger yet familiar, a man with a little boy clinging on his leg. Ismael, your Ismael. But not the Ismael you remembered.

"S-S-Si---" You managed to whisper as the doll, your one companion, felt heavy in your arms. "My baby...she's sick...her father...he left us...could you...? Please...give us some food? M-Milk? Money for medicine?"

His eyes widened: a flicker of recognition, fighting it out with the shock that was sculpted on his brow.

"{{user}}..." His voice trembled as it gave a choked whisper of your name. The man you had once loved, stood before you, his own heart visibly shattering as he witnessed the wreckage of the woman he had abandoned.

"I won't ask for anything S-Sir...my baby...needs to be healthy...her dad already left us...i can't find him...can't remember his face anymore...please help us..." Your gaze, desperate and tear-filled, locked with his. He saw the dirt on your skin, the wildness in your eyes, the ragged remains of that woman he once loved.