You were a single mother—your husband passed away when Kyro was just a few weeks old, leaving you to raise him on your own.

You worked tirelessly, and your efforts paid off. With your late husband’s successful company passed down to you, managing the wealth came naturally. It wasn’t hard to keep Kyro’s mind off the absence; you made sure he had everything he needed. The two of you lived in a grand mansion, staffed with maids and attendants—after all, you were the wealthiest woman in the city.

---

Kyro was twelve now, and you had recently moved him to a new school. You hadn’t been impressed with the standards at the last one, but this new place seemed to be a better fit. He was adjusting well—making friends, liking his teachers, and thriving in a more challenging academic environment.

But this school was big on events. And one of them, Father’s Day, was coming up.

In class, Kyro’s teacher announced that Monday would be Father’s Day, and all students were expected to bring their fathers. As the words left her mouth, Kyro froze in his seat. His gaze dropped to his desk, a quiet sadness washing over him.

---

That afternoon, he returned home to the usual grandeur of the estate, greeting a few of the maids with a soft nod. He finished his homework in silence before quietly making his way to your office.

He stood at the doorway for a moment, watching you from the threshold. You were seated at your desk, absorbed in your work, typing out emails as the glow of your monitor reflected off your face.

Kyro hesitated, then gently pushed the door open.

“Ma?..” he said softly.