"You lied?" Henry repeated in a hushed tone.

Brax tightly pressed his lips together, unable to bring himself to repeat the admission.

"Well, if you're not ready to share the details now, that's alright," Henry said, observing Brax's face for any signs of sadness, pain, or despair. "Go home and rest. Don't stress too much. I will also help you find another job."

"Thank you for being so understanding," Brax managed to utter these few words.

After leaving the office, he stood on the road for a while. When a taxi honked loudly nearby, he looked startled.

"Where would you like to go, sir?" the taxi driver asked as he sat in the back seat.

"Take me home!" he replied, settling into the taxi.

"Yes, of course, but where is your house?" the taxi driver inquired, glancing at the rearview mirror.

"Eldoria," he responded with a single word, falling silent thereafter and gazing out the window at the passing cars. Each vehicle triggered a new memory from his past.

It seemed as though misfortune had followed him since birth. His parents, burdened by poverty, struggled to provide for their family. They could barely afford to put food on the table, let alone offer him any luxuries or opportunities. He had been a shy and introverted child, often overlooked by his classmates.

His classmates relentlessly teased him, leaving him feeling isolated and alone. Despite his best efforts, he could never seem to fit in or find his place in the world. As the years went by, his misfortunes only multiplied. Six years ago, a fire engulfed his house, resulting in the tragic loss of his mother.

His mind wandered back to that fateful day when the fire consumed their home. The flames danced mercilessly, devouring everything in their path.

Brax had tried desperately to save their belongings, but it was all in vain. The fire had taken away not only their material possessions but also his wife's trust in him.

She had blamed him for the fire, for their misfortune, and for the never-ending cycle of bad luck that seemed to follow him like a shadow. Brax couldn't help but feel responsible. After all, his father's gambling addiction had left them drowning in debt, and he had foolishly taken on a loan he couldn't repay.

The weight of his failures pressed heavily on his shoulders, crushing his spirit day by day. He had become a prisoner to his own circumstances, trapped in a never-ending cycle of despair. The world outside seemed to move on without him, while he remained stuck in this dark abyss of depression.

Today was his daughter's fourth birthday, yet he had never heard her voice nor had the chance to meet her in person. The only glimpse he had of her existence was through photographs, which he suspected were sent solely to extract money from him by his wife.

His wife wanted a divorce, but it had been messy, with accusations and blame thrown around like daggers. But amidst all the chaos, his daughter had become a pawn in their twisted game. Fear and desperation consumed him. He couldn't bear the thought of his daughter being used as a bargaining chip. She was supposed to grow up happy and free; she deserved more than what had happened to her so far. The life of the average person wouldn't necessarily be perfect, but he wished to give his daughter some form of stability and security, even if it meant sacrificing himself.

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Upon arriving home, he immediately noticed the incessant ringing of the phone, indicating that it had been ringing for quite some time. Hastily, he set his bag and files aside and picked up the receiver. "Hello," he answered.

On the other end was a young-sounding girl. "Hey, who am I speaking to?"

Caught off guard by the unexpected call, he replied, "Hello," again. "Hello, please talk to me, daughter."

His voice sounded strained and desperate. He didn't sound too old, just... tired, as if he hadn't slept in days. Or maybe he had just received really bad news. "Please talk to me, I'm your father," he added after a pause, trying to explain the situation. There must have been confusion on the other line because all he could hear was a slight buzzing noise. It sounded like she was being hit.

“Are you okay?” Brax asked, his voice trembling with a mix of desperation and anger. His grip on the phone tightened as he felt the distance from her. She must have been hurt badly. “What happened? Are you hurt? Where are you right now? Did she hurt you?” He was rambling; he could tell even through the static, but he didn’t care. Her crying continued, growing louder, making it harder to understand what she was saying.

There was a moment of silence on the line before a woman's voice spoke up. "...hello, it's me..." It felt as though she had snatched the phone from someone else's hands. "Hello, Brax? Can you hear me?"

“Yes, I can hear you,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady to avoid alarming his daughter. He glanced at the clock on the wall, anxious about time. It had only been around ten minutes since he had arrived home. "Is there something you need?"

"Has the money been arranged?" she asked seriously.

"Yes, but it's just a small amount. I'll take care of the rest," Brax reassured her.

"How much money?" she inquired.

"It's $200," Brax's voice echoed from a deep abyss.

"Only $200?" His wife exclaimed, "Did your mother send the rest from above? Or did your father leave the property behind?"

"Fiona, please don't say it like that. I'm managing…..," Brax tried to speak up.

"The day after tomorrow is the deadline. Don’t you remember your daughter is starting school now? You have until tomorrow to take action quickly," Fiona said in a demeaning tone.

Fiona Blackwood was a pretty but cunning woman in her late twenties. She had honey-brown hair tied back into a ponytail, bright blue eyes, and an athletic build with fair skin, and a slight gap in front of her lower lip, as if she was about to smile or laugh.

"Listen carefully!" Brax hurriedly said, "Before you hang up, let me talk to my daughter one more time. Today is her fourth birthday, so let me hear her voice once, please. I just want to wish her a happy birthday and tell her how much I love her," his voice filled with sadness.

"Why? What have you achieved in your life that you need to talk to her about, and what face do you want to show her?" Fiona slurred her words. "You're such a pathetic excuse for a father."

Brax's heart sank upon hearing her words, but he refused to let her shatter him. He acknowledged his mistakes but was determined to rectify them.

"I am aware of the mistakes I've made, Fiona. However, I am actively working towards change. I want to be present for our daughter and be the father she deserves," he stated, his voice brimming with determination.

Fiona scoffed mockingly. "Change? Do you honestly believe you can alter your destiny overnight? It's too late, Brax. You have already forfeited your opportunity to be a good father."

"Please, just tell me her name at least," Brax pleaded, his tone filled with desperation. "I have the right to know my daughter's name, don't I?"

Fiona laughed sarcastically but stopped midway when Brax cut in. "I would never dream of hurting my child, Fiona! That is something you will never understand!"

"Then do something to make things right," Fiona retorted. "She doesn't even know if she has a father in this world, so don't bother reaching out to her. And yes, arrange the money by tomorrow, please," she abruptly ended the call, making sure to hang up loudly.

"She doesn't even know if she has a father in this world," Fiona's last words echoed in his mind. Only he understood the immense pain these words inflicted upon his heart.