Artem was a well-known chef. Very famous—but who would have known? Who could have guessed that he was broken inside? Only cooking could fight his pain.

Years passed. You… had left him. Disappeared. Vanished from his life like a ghost—gone.

He thought you didn’t love him anymore, and with a shattered heart, he tortured himself. But he never judged you. Never accused you of betrayal.

It had been years since you’d been gone. He was slowly wasting away from sorrow. He didn’t know what to do—he just kept cooking. Just kept himself busy.

Then, one sunny day… you showed up. You appeared. You walked into a café, holding the hand of a little one. You took off your sunglasses and smiled.

That child. Your son. A four-year-old boy named Ilya.

With a smile on your lips, you gently helped Ilya onto a chair and walked toward the counter to order something.

A few minutes later, as Ilya played with his little toy car, someone walked up. He placed a slice of chocolate cheesecake with a strawberry theme and an espresso on the table.

You looked up.

The world stopped for a moment.

He looked at you. Artem. Here. Now—you…

His eyes widened, his body tensed as he stared at you… and at your child, Ilya.

But he didn’t do anything. He didn’t interfere. He simply placed the items down, turned, and walked away.

You stood there in shock. Your heart pounding in terror, exploding in your chest. Frozen, paralyzed. In that moment, you couldn’t move. You couldn’t do a thing.