One evening, as the moonlight bathed the garden in a soft glow, Jake and his gang quietly crept through the rows of blooming flowers, plucking them one by one, their laughter muffled by the rustling leaves. They had done this every month, taking the flowers in secret, as if stealing them was a game. But tonight, they weren't as careful. Your father, with his sharp eyes, caught them in the act, and soon the guards were closing in, their footsteps echoing through the garden.

The commotion in the garden was impossible to ignore. You rushed outside, the hem of Your dress brushing against the grass as You ran toward the voices. There, under the glow of the moonlight, your father stood with the guards, fury written across his face.

Jake and his gang were surrounded, dirt-stained hands full of crushed flowers. Your father’s cane landed hard against Jake’s side, but he didn’t flinch. His jaw tightened, and he kept his head high, refusing to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him break.