The moment Ru Lei's footsteps faded down the hallway, Ru Lan's bright smile crumbled like a house of cards. The cheerful mask she wore so effortlessly slipped away, revealing the raw pain she kept buried beneath layers of wit and laughter.
She reached for the silver photo frame on her nightstand with trembling fingers. The image showed a tall man with kind eyes carrying a little girl on his shoulders, both of them radiating pure joy. The child's arms were spread wide like wings, her face glowing with the kind of happiness that only comes from feeling completely safe and loved.
A single tear dropped onto the glass, and suddenly the dam broke. Eighteen years of carefully controlled grief came flooding out in silent sobs that shook her entire body.
"It's been eighteen years, Daddy," she whispered to the photograph, her voice breaking. "I miss you so much. Every single day."
She traced his face with her finger, remembering the warmth of his embrace, the sound of his laughter, the way he used to call her his little princess.
"I'm living the life you wanted for me. I'm a renowned neurosurgeon now, just like you dreamed. I've fulfilled every promise I made to you, but you're not here to see it." Her voice cracked. "I know Mom feels the pain too, but she's become a master at hiding it. Just like you taught us."
She smiled through her tears, thinking of Lei. "You know I have a twin sister now, right? She calls you Daddy too, even though she never really knew you. She's become my whole world, Daddy. The sister I never had, the best friend I always wanted."
The memories came flooding back, as vivid and painful as if they'd happened yesterday...
Eighteen Years Ago
Dr. Zhou Haiyu had been at the peak of his career—a world-renowned neurosurgeon whose name was whispered with reverence in medical circles across the globe. Awards lined his office walls, and his revolutionary surgical techniques had saved countless lives.
But on that fateful night, fate had other plans.
The emergency call had come at 11:47 PM—a critical patient needed immediate brain surgery, and only he had the expertise to handle the case. He'd kissed six-year-old Lannie's forehead as she slept, promised Susan he'd be home before morning, and rushed out into the rain.
He never made it to the hospital.
The accident had been brutal—a collision at high speed that left his car twisted beyond recognition. For four agonizing hours, he'd lain unconscious on the cold asphalt while his enemies celebrated and his family slept, unaware that their world was about to shatter.
When the call finally came, Susan and Lannie had raced to the hospital through the pre-dawn darkness, both of them crying, both of them praying to anyone who would listen.
The Hospital
Little Lannie had pressed her face against the window of the ICU, watching her father's still form connected to machines that beeped and hummed like mechanical heartbeats. His eyes were closed, his face pale, and no matter how loudly she called to him, he wouldn't answer.
"Daddy, please wake up," she'd whispered, her small hands pressed against the glass. "I'll be good forever, I promise. Just please don't leave me."
But the machines kept beeping, and her father kept sleeping.
In Dr. Pei's office, Susan sat across from her husband's best friend and colleague, watching his face grow more solemn with each passing second.
"What's the situation?" she asked, though she already knew from his expression that the news wouldn't be good.
Dr. Pei placed his hand over hers, his eyes filled with the kind of sadness that comes from losing someone you love. "Susan, I'm so sorry. There's a massive clot lodged in his brain. We can't remove it without risking immediate death on the table."
"How long?" The words came out as barely a whisper.
"Five days. Seven at most."
The world stopped. Susan felt like she was drowning, like the air had been sucked out of the room. Her husband was her anchor in a foreign country, her only family besides Lannie. Without him, they were lost.
The Final Days
When Zhou Haiyu finally woke up, he took one look at his wife's red-rimmed eyes and knew exactly what Dr. Pei had told her. He'd spent his entire career delivering similar news to families—he recognized the look of impending grief.
"That bad, huh?" he'd asked Dr. Pei with a weak smile.
"I'm sorry, old friend. I wish there was something more we could do."
Zhou Haiyu had nodded, accepting his fate with the same calm professionalism he'd shown throughout his career. "At least I have time to make arrangements. Susan and Lannie need to be protected."
What he hadn't realized was that little Lannie had been awake the entire time, listening to every word. When he'd called her his "little princess" and asked her to be strong, she'd buried her face in his chest and sobbed like her heart was breaking.
"Are you really going to leave me, Daddy?" she'd asked through her tears.
"I'll never really leave you, princess. I'll always be right here," he'd said, placing her small hand over her heart. "But you have to promise me something. Promise me you'll be strong, that you'll take care of Mommy, and that you'll never stop smiling. Your smile brings light to everyone around you."
"I promise, Daddy."
"And one more thing, princess. There are people who will try to hurt you because of who you are. But Uncle Ru is going to take care of you and Mommy. He's going to be your new daddy, okay? And someday, when you're older, Mommy will tell you about your real family."
Even at six years old, Lannie had understood that her father was talking about something bigger than just their little family. There were secrets, dangerous ones, that she was too young to understand.
---
**Present Day**
Ru Lan wiped her tears and set the photo back on her nightstand. Even now, eighteen years later, she could still hear her father's voice telling her to be strong, to smile, to bring light to the world.
She'd kept her promise. She'd become the surgeon he'd dreamed she would be. She'd protected her mother and accepted Uncle Ru as her father. She'd learned to hide her pain behind laughter and wit.
But sometimes, in the quiet moments before sleep, the mask slipped away, and she was just a six-year-old girl missing her daddy.
"I met someone today," she whispered to the photograph. "He has kind eyes, like yours. I think you would have liked him, Daddy. But I'm scared. What if I let someone get close and lose them too?"
The photo didn't answer, but somehow, she could almost hear her father's voice telling her to be brave, to take chances, to never stop believing in happiness.
As sleep finally claimed her, Ru Lan held onto that voice, that memory, and the promise that somewhere out there, her father was still watching over her, still proud of the woman she'd become.
But she had no idea that the man with kind eyes was lying awake across the city, thinking about her smile and planning how to see her again.