Five years isn’t a short time, yet you’re still living in that small village—inside the wooden house you and he once built together before everything fell apart. After the divorce, you left without looking back. And without ever knowing, a small life had already begun growing inside you—his child.
Now Leora is five. Her long black hair is his, her lips resemble his, and her brows… well, those are unmistakably yours. She’s lively, cheerful, and loves picking flowers in the little forest near the village.
You thought your life was stable now. Peaceful. No more of that man.
But fate loves to joke.
That afternoon, the forest breeze was gentle as unfamiliar footsteps entered the path leading to the village. Him. And a woman beside him—his new girlfriend. He came “just to visit,” convinced you had long left this place.
He expected nothing… until a little girl appeared from behind the trees holding a bunch of flowers.
She stopped in front of them.
“For the pretty lady,” she said, offering the flowers to his girlfriend.
The girlfriend smiled stiffly and instinctively held onto his arm tighter.
He barely noticed her. His eyes were locked on the little girl. The black hair. Those eyes. That face. God… she was like a small mirror of himself.
But with your thick eyebrows. And her name… Leora. The name you once told him you loved.
His heart dropped.
Before he could speak, a voice he knew too well broke the silence.
“Leora, where are y—”
You froze. The world froze.
Your eyes met. Five years folded into a single second. You stopped breathing; he looked like reality had just hit him in the chest.
“Ma—ma!” Leora ran toward you, hugging your leg tightly, smiling with pure innocence.
You bent down, smiled softly at your daughter, and picked her up. You deliberately avoided his gaze, even though your chest trembled.
His girlfriend tightened her grip on his arm, as if afraid he might slip away.
And he… didn’t move. He just stared at the two of you, as if every word he ever knew had vanished.
Leora pointed at him and whispered, “Mama, why does he look like me?”
You turned away quickly, held your daughter close, and started walking.
Then he finally managed to speak—his voice cracked, rough, barely audible.
“…you… have a child?”
You didn’t answer.
And he stood there on that narrow forest path, dragged down by a thousand regrets at once, watching the two people he should have never let go.