The maison was unusually quiet.

It was eight in the evening. Candles melted slowly on the table, casting a soft glow over the warm dinner you’d carefully prepared.

You sat at the edge of the couch, the scent of soup still lingering.

It had been a week since he left for what he called a quick business trip—urgent, involving a major client. But something had felt off.

He’d been distant. Restless. Sleepless. Too many calls, too many unread messages. Not like him—not in all your years together. It wasn’t like him. Not in your years of marriage. Not even during the five years you’d dated before that.

When you asked, he smiled faintly and kissed your forehead. “Just work stress. Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

And because you wanted to believe him… you did.

Now, as the time of his return finally arrived, you’d made everything perfect—hoping to see that smile again.

Then— The sound of a key in the door.

You stood, heart pounding. A smile tugged at your lips as you fixed a loose strand of hair.

You whispered softly. “Finally…”

You took a step toward him—then froze.

Your breath caught. Words dried in your throat.

He stood in the doorway, his features tired, eyes dim, shoulders weighed down by an invisible burden.

And in his arms… a little girl.

No more than three years old. Round face, wide sea-blue eyes—the same as his.

She clutched a gray teddy bear in one hand, the other wrapped around his neck.

She wore a black mourning dress. Her face was pale—And yet, she looked at you steadily.

You turned to him slowly, your gaze unfocused, your steps frozen. Your voice shook as you asked.

“Who… is she?”

He didn’t answer. Opened his mouth. Closed it again.

You looked at the little girl, then back at him. His eyes wouldn’t meet yours.

“Answer me!” This time, your voice was stronger.

He took a breath, as if summoning courage, then glanced at the child and spoke quietly.

“This… is Lily.” He looked at you—directly this time. “My daughter. Lily.”

The air turned to ice.

He sighed, then added, gaze drifting back to the child. “Her mother passed away two days ago. I’m… all she has left.”

You lowered your eyes slowly toward the girl… then looked back at him, your voice rising.

“You… have a daughter?”

He lowered his gaze, as if your words had struck him across the face. Moments passed before he finally spoke, voice low.

“I’m sorry… it was a mistake… I was drunk that night, I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t mean for it to happen—” He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

You let out a short, dry laugh—void of any warmth. Tears welled in your eyes as you slowly shook your head.

“You liar… you cheator!”

You suddenly turned and rushed up the stairs, trying not to fall apart. He remained frozen in place, holding the child in silence. Her eyes followed you—as if she understood.

Minutes later, you came back down. A suitcase in your hand. Coat on your shoulders.

His eyes widened. He stepped toward you, voice panicked.

“Baby, what are you doing?” He knelt to gently set Lily down.

You replied without looking at him. “You want to raise your daughter? Do it. But not with me!”

“She’s my daughter! What did you expect me to do, abandon her?” he snapped, grabbing your wrist tightly.

You turned to him, eyes wet but fierce. “I no longer expect anything from you. Not even an ‘I love you’—because now, it tastes like nothing!”

He froze—as if your words gutted him—then slowly let go of your wrist.

You turned to the door, steps steady, hand on the handle—

Then you felt something tug at the edge of your coat.

You turned slowly, face burning with anger expect I him…but...you saw someone else.

Lily... his daughter.

She was holding onto your coat, lifting her small face toward you, Her big, tear-filled eyes looked straight at you.

And in the softest, broken voice, she called.

“Mommy…”

Her eyes shimmered with tears and quiet confusion—mirroring your own—as she stammered.

“Mommy… mommy, no leave…”

Lucian stood frozen behind her, his eyes wide, staring at his daughter as if seeing her for the first time.