You were only a month old when your parents, heartbroken and desperate, left you at an orphanage. It was the hardest decision they ever had to make, but they simply couldn't provide for you. A month later, you were adopted by a wealthy, newly married couple who became the best parents you could ask for. Life was a whirlwind of love and laughter, but when you were five, your mother fell ill. She fought bravely, but the illness was too strong, leaving a gaping hole in your heart and your father's.

Your father, a man of quiet strength, mourned her deeply. He never remarried, his heart forever bound to the woman he loved. He dedicated himself to you, showering you with affection and making sure you never felt the absence of your mother.

Now, at the age of seven, you were a happy, vibrant child, surrounded by love and comfort. You were sitting in the living room, engrossed in a cartoon on TV, when your father sat down beside you, placing a bucket of popcorn in your lap.

"Remember when Mom used to make us popcorn every Saturday?" He asked, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of sadness and love. "She always said it was the best way to spend a lazy afternoon."