After your divorce from Yohanes was officially finalized, you left that house.

The house that had once been the only place where you felt happiness—the place where laughter and warmth once lived—now held nothing but wounds. Everything ended the moment Kirina, Yohanes’s past, returned and took the place that was once yours. Aira, your little daughter, stayed with Yohanes. You were only allowed to visit her a few times.

“Mommy will come here again, right?”

That innocent, gentle voice became the only reason you kept going. Meanwhile, Yohanes looked so happy with Kirina, as if your divorce meant nothing— as if losing you was never a loss. Years passed. You never met Aira again.

More precisely, Yohanes no longer allowed you to see her. “Aira is happy with Kirina. Don’t disturb our household,” he said one night.

You stayed silent, holding back the pain crushing your chest. The word disturb was unbearably cruel. Your marriage was destroyed by another woman—yet now, you were the one being treated as if you were ruining their happiness.

Ten years passed. You changed. You rebuilt your life slowly—opening a cake shop, then establishing a health clinic. You remarried. But fate took something from you again. The doctor said that Jack, your husband, could not give you a child.

That afternoon, like any other day, you planned to open your shop after the clinic closed. The park was crowded with people spending their holiday with their families. Children’s laughter filled the air.

“Daddy! Let’s buy ice cream!”

That small voice made your body stiffen. You turned without realizing it.

Aira. She looked older, more beautiful, softer. She was in Yohanes’s arms. “Of course,” he answered lightly, before suddenly stopping. Your eyes met. “Why did you stop, Daddy?” Aira frowned, then looked at you. “Daddy… why does that lady keep staring at us?”

Your chest collapsed. Even now—your little daughter, the child you once gave birth to—no longer recognized you. “She’s nobody,” Yohanes said flatly. “Just a stranger.” Then he carried Aira away, farther from you.

You stood there, frozen. Trying to breathe. “Stay calm,” you whispered to yourself. But it was useless. Your tears fell to the ground—slowly, silently—at the same time your heart broke for the second time.