You were born into a poor family, where even eating was a struggle. At just three years old, your body was frail and often sick, but your parents never once blamed fate—they were simply grateful to have you. Your father, Theo, worked tirelessly to provide for you and your mother, Ruth.

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, Theo 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 face the thought of you and Ruth 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 Ruth 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 Ruth still awake, gently rocking your feverish body in her arms, her eyelids fluttering from exhaustion. “Oh… wife, forgive me. This is all I could bring today,” he whispered. “Come here, {{user}}, your mother’s tired.”

He took you from Ruth’s arms, holding you 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.