City A.

It was pouring rain that night.

Eleanor Haywood kept calling Leon Collins over and over.

The call went through, but nobody ever picked up.

Her daughter, Christina Collins, was burning up in her arms—fever spiking to 40°C, eyes half-shut, mumbling over and over, “Daddy… I want Daddy...”

Eleanor grabbed her tighter and rushed downstairs, calling out, “Mrs. Hardcastle, we’ve got to get to the hospital. Now.”

“Should we wait for Mr. Collins?” Mrs. Hardcastle asked cautiously.

“No need.”

It was Lydia Carter’s birthday. Of course he wasn’t coming home.

Eleanor's chest ached like it was being sliced open. Christina’s little face was tomato red from the fever, whimpering non-stop, while her dad? Out celebrating with another woman.

The rain kept coming down in buckets as Eleanor sped through the streets.

Worried sick about her kid, her foot was glued to the gas pedal.

Suddenly, a car swerved dangerously close—she flashed her headlights in warning, but the other car just sped past like a lunatic.

Eleanor swerved hard to avoid a crash, hitting the steering wheel sharply to steer away, and the car bumped into the median.

Mrs. Hardcastle let out a startled cry in the backseat and clasped the child tightly.

It was only a minor scrape, nothing serious—but that tiny crash broke the last string holding Eleanor together.

She collapsed onto the steering wheel, tears covering her face, sobbing as if it would tear her apart.

Years of silent suffering, all hitting her at once.

From behind, Mrs. Hardcastle called out in alarm, “Ma’am, her temperature’s going up—please, we’ve got to hurry!”

Snapping back to the moment, Eleanor quickly reversed the car and drove on.

At the hospital, she rushed in with Christina in her arms.

During the blood test, Christina freaked out, refusing to get her finger pricked. Eleanor had to hold her hand down.

The child’s screams tore through her like a knife.

Test results came back—multiple viral infections. Lung scans showed both lungs nearly white with infection.

The doctor’s face was grave. “Her condition’s serious. She needs immediate lung irrigation surgery.”

Mrs. Hardcastle gasped in shock. “Isn’t she too little for that?”

Eleanor took the scan, studying it carefully.

The doctor looked surprised. “You know how to read this?”

Eleanor nodded, her voice firm. “Wait until her fever drops, then do the surgery.”

Mrs. Hardcastle whispered, “Ma’am, do you want to talk to Mr. Collins first?”

Eleanor gently touched her daughter’s burning forehead, face set with resolve. “No need.”

It was like something in her finally clicked.

Three days later.

Eleanor sat beside Christina, who’d just made it through surgery, lying pale on the hospital bed.

Her phone buzzed. A message: “What’s up?”

Just two cold, clipped words, full of that condescending tone.

Eleanor glanced at it, then set her phone down without replying.

In the hallway, Mrs. Hardcastle picked up a call in a hurry. “Hello, Mr. Collins?”

“What happened at home?”Mrs. Hardcastle stammered, “N-no, nothing much. Sir, are you back in the country?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright then, just take care. Everything’s fine at home, nothing to worry about.”

After the call, Mrs. Hardcastle mumbled to herself, "Why wouldn’t she let me tell him what happened these past few days? He’s obviously back already."

Eleanor Haywood held her daughter’s tiny hand, her eyes bloodshot from too many sleepless nights. Even with her lids finally shut, she couldn’t fall asleep.

Suddenly, Christina Collins twitched like she was having a nightmare, hands reaching around in the air. “Daddy... Aunt Lydia, I’m scared...”

Eleanor instantly held her little hand tighter. “Mommy’s here, sweetheart.”

Christina woke up startled, saw it was Eleanor, and turned her back with a pout. “I don’t want Mommy. I want Aunt Lydia.”

Eleanor bit back the tears and gently stroked her daughter’s back, hoping she’d calm down.

Seven days later, Eleanor brought her back home from the hospital.

She was absolutely drained. Every bone in her body screamed exhaustion.

She asked Mrs. Hardcastle to look after Christina for a bit so she could catch up on some sleep upstairs.

An hour later, when she came back down, Mrs. Hardcastle looked awkward. “Ma’am, you're up. Just now, sir came by and took Christina out for lunch.”

There was a sharp pang in Eleanor’s chest. She didn’t say a word—just turned and went back upstairs.

From behind, Mrs. Hardcastle watched her and sighed quietly. “She’s got a husband... so why does she have to live like this?”

Eleanor picked up her phone and dialed Leon Collins.

The call connected, and a woman’s voice came through the other end. “Leon took Christina to the restroom. Do you need something?”

Eleanor froze, her lips pressing into a hard line before hanging up.

Eyes shut, her mind drifted back to years ago—back when she’d insisted on marrying him against her father’s wishes, dropping everything, even school.

She remembered her father pulling her aside on her wedding day, asking gently, “Are you sure you won’t regret this down the line?”

She’d smiled brightly. “Don’t worry, Dad. I won’t regret it.”

Just like that, she gave it all up and stepped into a marriage she thought would bring her happiness.

Two years ago, she accidentally overheard Christina whispering sweet nothings with Leon’s old flame, Lydia Carter, clinging to her like a real mom.

And that night, on the trip rushing Christina to the hospital, it all clicked.

She did regret it.

And it was time to let go.

Trying to hold together a marriage built on one-sided love... only left her bruised and broken.

From now on, she was going to choose herself.

Right then, her phone buzzed with a new email.

She made her way to the third-floor study, opened her laptop.

It was from the top medical university lab overseas.

She shut her eyes and whispered, “Dad... you were right. Thanks for leaving me a way back.”

She remembered his final words so clearly: “Eleanor, promise me—no matter what happens, don’t give up on yourself. Don’t settle. Keep learning. Let me be proud of you.”

Six years.

Six years she kept going.

Quietly, with no one else knowing, she kept grinding through her studies, determined to live up to the promise she made.