The morning air carried the salt of the sea, crisp and biting, yet strangely soothing as Lia stood on the shore. Her fingers dug into the cool sand, watching the lace of waves curl and retreat, their soft whispers mingling with the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. This place, once a source of fear, now wrapped her in a fragile embrace, coaxing her fears to yield to something gentler.

Behind her, a familiar voice called out, warm and steady, pulling her back from the horizon. "Ready to go?" her father asked, his tone light but touched with a hint of tiredness.

Lia hesitated, reluctant to leave the ocean’s quiet symphony. "Just a few more minutes," she murmured, eyes locked on the endless blue.

He nodded, understanding etched into his features. "I'll be checking the suite. Join me when you're ready." His footsteps faded as he walked away, leaving her alone with the tide and the whispering breeze that tossed her chestnut waves around her face like playful lashes.

When she finally turned, her father was waiting by the car, his expression softening into a smile. "Shall we?" he asked, opening the door.

Before she climbed in, he caught her hand, pulling a small box from his pocket. Relief and curiosity sparked in her chest as she looked up. "Is that for me?" she asked, eyes bright with hope.

He laughed, the warmth spreading through his gaze. "Yes, a little something." The box opened to reveal a delicate silver necklace, the name "Lia" etched gracefully on its pendant.

Her fingers traced the cool metal, a smile blossoming. "It's beautiful, Dad. Thank you." She lifted it over her head, the chain settling against her collarbone like a secret promise.

"Come on, now," he urged gently. "We’re cutting it close. Don’t want to keep everyone waiting."

The car ride was a quiet cocoon, the hum of the engine the only soundtrack. Lia fought the pull of sleep, determined to savor every moment. "You can rest," her father suggested softly.

"No, I want to stay awake. This trip... I wish it didn’t have to end." Her voice trembled with unspoken longing.

He chuckled, a sound that usually comforted her, but the weariness beneath it was unmistakable. "There’ll be more trips, I promise. Maybe sooner than you think." His eyes held a glimmer of hope, or perhaps a fragile wish.

Outside the window, trees blurred into streaks of green, the wind teasing her face and lifting strands of hair. A sudden sting in her eye caught her off guard.

"You okay?" he asked, concern creasing his brow.

"Just something in my eye," she whispered, wiping at the moisture. A sharp hiss escaped her lips as irritation flared.

"Do you have a tissue?" His voice was gentle, reassuring.

"No, do you?" She began searching, eyes narrowing as she rifled through the glove compartment.

Her breath caught. There, amid the clutter, lay a photograph that stopped time—a younger version of her father smiling beside a woman. The image was tender, yet foreign. Her heart stuttered. Could it be?

"Talia! There's nothing here," he said, his voice urging her to stop. But her mind was frozen, grappling with the shock of the glimpse into a past she never knew.

She swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper, "Is that... Mom?" The word felt strange on her tongue, heavy with questions and pain.

His silence was answer enough. She had seen her mother for the first time at twenty-one—her features reflecting in the woman’s smile, haunting and elusive.

Conversations about her mother had always been met with evasion. The mention of her name darkened her father's eyes, folding his spirit into a quiet sorrow. Now, the silence screamed volumes.

"Dad, I’m old enough. I want to know what happened to her," Lia insisted, the trembling in her hands betraying her courage.

He tried to deflect with a half-hearted joke, "Am I not enough for you?" but the cracks in his facade were clear.

"I don’t understand why you don’t want to talk about her," she pressed, grasping for fragments of truth.

His calm demeanor flared into frustration. "She's just... not around. She never was." The words were sharp, edged with pain he tried to bury.

She dared to ask the unspoken, "Did she cheat on you?" expecting anger or heartbreak, but instead he laughed—a hollow sound that chilled her.

"What nonsense is that?" he said, shaking his head, but the laughter held no warmth.

Her questions piled, relentless. "Then what happened? Why did she leave? Why is her picture hidden away?"

He coughed, avoiding her gaze. "Let’s talk about this later." But Lia’s resolve hardened. "No, Dad. Not this time. I need to know."

His voice dropped, raw and bitter. "She left when you were just three months old—a baby needing her mother’s care. I was lost, scared, trying to be everything for you. I begged her to come back. I went to her family, waited outside their home for hours, holding you, desperate for help. But they had moved on, vanished from my reach." His hands tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles white.

Tears pricked Lia’s eyes as she listened, the weight of abandonment settling deep within her chest.

"She chose survival over us," he continued, voice cracking. "She said she couldn't live like that anymore, that she'd find a better life—somewhere else, with someone else who could give her what we couldn't." He glanced at her, eyes haunted. "It breaks me every time you say 'mom' because she doesn’t deserve that name. Not after what she did."

Silence filled the car, thick and suffocating. Lia struggled to absorb the bitter truth.

"Is she still alive?" she asked softly, needing to hear it from him.

"She is," he replied, a harsh edge to his words. "She left this photo with someone at my office, along with money to give it to you."

"Why did she leave us?" The question hung fragile in the air.

He hesitated, then said, "Because we were poor. She wanted more—a life without struggle. I guess she chose money over family." He turned away, eyes fixed on the passing scenery.

Lia’s hand found his arm, hesitant yet seeking to bridge the chasm between them. "I’m sorry," she whispered, unsure whether she mourned her father’s pain or the mother she never knew.

"At least now you know," he said, voice colder, closing his heart off. "No more questions. It’s better this way."

The remainder of the drive back was swallowed by heavy silence. When they pulled up outside their home, darkness had settled, the air growing chillier.

Lia was the first to slip out, eager to escape the weight of their conversation. She glanced back at him, still seated, his face buried in his hands.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked quietly.

"In a moment," he murmured.

Inside, she moved toward the kitchen, needing water to calm the storm swirling inside her. The cool liquid slid down her throat, but the taste of despair lingered.

Suddenly, distant shouting pierced the quiet. Her heart hammered as a gunshot rang out, sharp and terrifying.

A scream tore from her lips as the glass cup shattered on the floor, water pooling around the glittering shards.

She sprinted outside, breath catching in her throat. Her father lay motionless, crimson pooling beneath him, his chest rising and falling shallowly, then pausing altogether.

His hand clenched his wound futilely, the life seeping away before her eyes. She knelt, trembling, the world narrowing to the fading light in his gaze.

"Find Ace... he’ll help you," he gasped, voice barely audible. "Ace... Lia."

His eyes remained open, glassy and distant, as the color drained from his face. The steady beat of his heart stilled, leaving Lia alone with the cold night and the unbearable silence of loss.