She was a kind, sweet-hearted girl—too kind for her own good. After divorcing her abusive husband, she tried to start a new life, but his shadow still loomed over her. He couldn't accept the separation, haunting her with threats and insults, until the day he cornered her in a dark alley and stabbed her mercilessly, not caring that she was carrying a child in her womb.

She was rushed to the hospital, caught between life and death. There, by her side, sat a man in his forties who had no blood relation to her. He had never played the role of a father—infertile, unfamiliar with the world of children—yet something stirred inside him, as if the baby in her womb was his own, born of his heart.

When she finally opened her eyes, he held her trembling hand and said with a shaking voice, — “I thought I lost you... I thought I’d never see you again...”