"You're back so early?" Ashlee asked her mom, looking through the things she'd bought.

"Yeah, your uncle wanted to rest, so I left early," Kristine replied in a distant voice. She wasn't even facing Ashlee. Something must be wrong for her to act like that.

"Mom." Ashlee called her, sensing the tense air surrounding her mother.

"Yes?" her mother replied, still not turning around and pretending to busy herself with something.

"Mom, look at me." Ashlee insisted, certain that something was wrong. Did someone say something to her? Was it her uncle? Or someone else?

"What do you want, Ashlee? I bought you some snacks—take them to your room and go study." Her mother's voice was shaky. Is she crying? Is she hurt? Without another thought, Ashlee ran to stand in front of her mother, grasping her arms and looking closely at her face.

"What the hell? Who did this?" She nearly cursed every bit of anger from her soul upon seeing the sharp wound on her mother's face. Her blood boiled.

"Ashlee, stop it. Take your things and go back to your room." Her mom nudged her away gently. She was clearly hiding something, and it wasn't the first time.

"Stop what, Mom? Who did this to you?" Ashlee was irritated by Kristine's attempts to avoid the conversation.

"I just happened to get hurt while working." Kristine lied, forgetting Ashlee knew she wasn't at work.

"Mom, you went to the hospital." Ashlee folded her arms, narrowing her eyes, urging her mother to tell the truth.

"Fine. I went to the hospital and bumped into a nurse who was carrying a lot of stuff, and it scratched my face." Her mom's eyes were unwavering as she continued feeding Ashlee more lies. But what could Ashlee do if her mother didn't want to tell her?

"Are you sure?" Ashlee's voice was calm and caring. She hoped her mother might change her story. But Kristine remained determined to bear her burdens alone.

"Of course." Kristine smiled at Ashlee and resumed putting things away.

"Why don't you go rest? I'll take care of these." Ashlee offered, grabbing the bags of food from her mother's hands. Probably all for that jerk she called Uncle.

"Okay. I'll be in my room then." Kristine smiled and walked off, stretching her back.

"Thank goodness," Kristine muttered before closing the door. "I don't want her fighting her uncle for me. Where would we even go if he threw us out?" She sighed, leaning against the closed door.

Her eyes drifted to a box on the top shelf of her open closet, the only box containing happy memories that were since replaced by pain and waiting.

"I will keep her safe, don't worry." She took out a photo of her husband and held it close, tears silently falling as she clung to his memory. She missed him more than anyone else in the world.

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If only that day hadn't come, they could have been a happy family. Ashlee would have had her father. They were so alike,except for one thing—and that one blessing for Ashlee.

FOURTEEN YEARS AGO...

"No, Mace. Don't go." Kristine cried, carrying little four-year-old Ashlee in her arms. Ashlee was sucking her thumb, not understanding why her parents were crying.

"Kris, I have to. I can't leave them to die alone. They're a part of me. I can't abandon them," Mace tried to explain, even though he knew it could cost him his life. He couldn't stand by while others fought and died.

"But can you abandon us? Me, your wife? And her, your daughter? Think of her at least. What will I tell her if she asks me about you?" Kristine sobbed as Mace gently stroked her cheek, his eyes already giving her all the answers.

"I'll come back after ending it all." Mace smiled reassuringly, giving them each a kiss. He patted his daughter's head.

"Daddy, where are you going?" Ashlee asked in a small voice, still with her thumb in her mouth.

"Daddy will be back soon, sweetheart. Be good to Mommy," Mace chuckled, gently poking her nose before walking out the door.

Days passed, and he didn't come back. He'd promised he would. Every day, Ashlee stared out the window with her mother, waiting.

One night, during a stormy thunderstorm with the sky lit purple and blue, Kristine was awakened by a loud knock. With her heart racing, she walked toward the door, checking Ashlee's room. Her daughter was still sleeping, clutching her doll.

As she approached, she saw a large shadow through the semi-transparent glass. She picked up a lamp just in case. Taking a deep breath, she swung the door open—only to see Mace, bloodied and covered in mud.

"Kristine," he whispered, clutching his side in pain.

"Mace!" Kristine gasped, unknowingly waking little Ashlee.

"Kris, listen to me," he murmured, almost collapsing as she caught him in her arms, sobbing. "You need to leave," he growled, wincing in pain.

"Mace, my God! How... How could this happen?" All Kristine could process was that her husband was hurt, covered in his own blood.

"No, Kris, you need to listen to me!!" Mace's voice was filled with urgency, his groans intensifying as the venom spread.

"Okay, okay." Kristine choked out, "Let me take you to the hospital first." She reached for her phone, but Mace stopped her before she could make the call.

"No one can help me now, Kris. Just listen to what I have to say." He tried to stay calm as little Ashlee peeked from behind the wall, silently observing.

"Take Ash out of here. Don't let anyone hurt her. She's our daughter, and many will come after her. Promise me..." His voice trailed off, his eyes slowly closing.

"Promise what? Wake up!" Kristine shouted, and he painfully opened his eyes.

"Promise me. You will protect our daughter." He barely growled, his body weakening as the silver venom took hold.

"I... I can't, Mace. I can't do it alone." Her tear-filled eyes met his as he chuckled with a tender smile.

"I believe in you, Kris. I know you will." He whispered, wiping her tears, as Ashlee watched from the doorway. "I missed you, pumpkin." Mace gave his last words to his daughter, smiling before he passed away.

CURRENT TIME...

"I hope you're watching us, Mace. You should see how big Ashlee has grown. She's just like you—your eyes and your hair. But don't worry, she's an ordinary girl." Kristine chuckled, looking at her husband's photo.

Since that night, she imagined him by her side, giving her the strength to keep going. He'd trusted her to carry on, and she wouldn't let him down.

"Mom." Ashlee knocked at the door, and Kristine quickly stashed everything back in the box and returned it to the shelf.

"Come in," Kristine said, pretending to sleep as Ashlee entered with a tray.

"Here, drink this soup. It'll help you relax." Ashlee placed the tray on the side table, watching her mom take a sip.

"Thank you, my sweet girl." Kristine stroked Ashlee's cheek, savoring the warm soup.

"It's delicious," she said, genuinely impressed, while a pang in her heart wished Mace could have tasted their daughter's cooking.

"Thanks, Mom. I'll let you finish—it's getting dark, so I'll head to my room." Ashlee glanced at the shelf, noticing the box was slightly crooked.

"Alright," Kristine smiled, continuing with her soup as Ashlee left, shaking her head slightly.

"I'll take a bowl for him. If he's not there, I'll eat it myself." Ashlee muttered, filling a bowl with soup.