He had gone to the hospital to see her and found an empty bed. He had rushed to his friend, panic in his voice.
"She was adopted," his friend had told him gently. "As she was an orphan, a family from California adopted her. It happened quickly."
After that, silence. No updates about her, no contact, nothing, just a space where a little warrior used to be. And now— Now she was in his arms.
"I'm sorry," the little girl whispered against his shoulder. "I broke my promise."
Her grip loosened slightly as she pulled back, her hands sliding down to his collar. Her eyes were shiny with guilt. "You said… If I fight like you fight villains in your movies… every Sunday we'll go to the amusement park. You, me, roller coasters, cotton candy. Deal?" Her voice trembled. "But I went away from you…"
Her hands slipped from around his neck completely, falling to her sides as if she truly believed she had failed him. Kai's heart clenched so tightly it almost hurt.
"Shhh," he murmured, placing his finger gently against her lips before she could continue blaming herself.
"No more of that." He cupped her face carefully in his hands, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks — reassuring himself she was real, solid, here.
"First tell me," he said softly, his voice no longer carrying celebrity charm, no practiced confidence — just warmth, "how are you?"
She blinked up at him. "I'm… okay," she answered.
"Okay?" He raised an eyebrow dramatically, wiping at an imaginary tear. "That's it? I fought villains for you. I prepared myself mentally for roller coasters. Do you know how brave that is? And I only get 'okay'?" A tiny giggle escaped her. That sound. It hit him harder than applause in a stadium.
"You look stronger," he continued, brushing a strand of hair away from her forehead. "And taller. Did you grow up just to show off in front of me?"
She smiled shyly. "I ate," she said proudly. "Even when it didn't taste good."
"That's my warrior," he whispered.
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently against hers for a brief second. His eyes shimmered dangerously, but he blinked quickly, swallowing the emotion before it spilled.
A few feet away, Alina stood watching, and suddenly it clicked. Its her, the hospital girl. The way he was talking now — not like an actor meeting a fan, but like family meeting family. It was her. The same girl.
Alina's chest tightened as she watched the way his shoulders softened around Anya, the way his eyes held her as if she were something sacred. She had never seen him like this — stripped of ego, stripped of arrogance, stripped of fame. She loved it. She loved this version of him.
Kai leaned back slightly, studying Anya's face as if memorizing every feature again. "You scared me, you know that?" he said softly. "Next time you disappear, at least leave me a note."
"I'm sorry?" she replied innocently, tilting her head. "Deal still on?" she asked hesitantly. "Amusement park?"
He extended his hand formally toward her. "Every Sunday. But only if you promise me something."
"What?"
"You keep smiling always, even when I'm not there." She placed her tiny hand into his.
"Deal."
Under the soft streetlights, in that quiet space with no cameras and no screaming fans — just a father, a stubborn woman who made this reunion happen, and a man kneeling on pavement — Kai wasn't a star. He was just someone's reason to fight.
"You should have called me the moment you came here," he said gently.
"I tried," Anya replied.
He paused, then winced lightly. "Oh. I changed my number."
"My fault," he admitted sheepishly. "I forget."
She giggled.
"To make up for that," he continued, leaning closer conspiratorially, "shall we go on an ice-cream date?"
Her eyes widened instantly. "Yes!" The excitement in her voice was pure sunshine.
Kai stood up slowly, still holding her hand, and looked toward Alina. She was smiling — not teasing, not sarcastic. Just soft.
"Alina," he called gently. She walked over.
"Take her and sit in the car. I'll come in a minute." Alina nodded.
"Come, Anya," she said warmly, offering her hand.
Anya looked once at Kai, seeking silent permission. He nodded reassuringly. As Alina walked toward the car with Anya, she glanced down at the little girl.
"You know," she said softly, "he doesn't smile like that for everyone."
Anya grinned proudly. "I know."
Kai remained behind with the girl's adoptive father. For a moment, the man didn't speak. His eyes were filled with gratitude too deep for simple words.
"Thank you," the man finally said.
Kai shook his head gently. "No need to say that."
Kai reached into his pocket, pulled out a sleek business card, and handed it to him. "This is my personal assistant's number," Kai said. "Call him whenever she wants to talk to me. Video call. Anything. Don't hesitate."
The father took the card with both hands, almost reverently. "She talks about you all the time," he admitted. "Even in California."
Kai's jaw tightened slightly. "I should've looked harder."
"You were part of her fight," the man replied. "That doesn't fade."
Kai nodded quietly. "I guess my ice-cream date is waiting," he said. And as he walked toward the car, Alina watched him — not as the world's superstar, not as the arrogant man who argued with her in parking lots. But as the man who once kept a promise to a little girl in a hospital bed, and was still keeping it.
The ice-cream corner was small, warm, and glowing with soft yellow lights that made everything look a little kinder than it actually was. A glass freezer displayed bright new flavours with dramatic names printed on little cards — Blue Galaxy Swirl, Dark Chocolate Lava Burst, Strawberry Cloud Crunch. The air smelled like sugar and fresh waffle cones.
Kai had insisted that Anya's father head home.
"I'll drop her," he had said firmly but politely. "You must be tired."
The man hesitated at first, but one look at the way Anya's fingers were tightly wrapped around Kai's hand — as if she had found something she had once lost — and he nodded gratefully. "Call me when you reach," he told Anya softly before leaving.
Now it was just the three of them. They sat in a row on a cushioned bench — Anya in the middle like royalty being escorted by two very different bodyguards. Kai sat on her right, Alina on her left. Anya had refused the regular vanilla and chocolate.
She demanded. "I want new flavours."
So Kai had returned from the counter, balancing a tray with three different new arrivals in the market — each in separate bowls, each with dramatic toppings. One had edible glitter. One had popping candy. One had marshmallow clouds shaped like stars. He placed them carefully in front of her like presenting treasures.
"Your Highness," he said with a small bow.
Anya gasped dramatically. Alina chuckled softly, watching him. Anya dipped her spoon into the first one — Blue Galaxy Swirl. She took a bite, her eyes squeezing shut as she processed the taste.
Kai leaned closer anxiously. "Well?"
She opened one eye slowly. "Hmm."
"That 'hmm'is dangerous," he said.
She took another bite. "Approved."
He clutched his chest in fake relief. "Thank God."
Then she moved to the second bowl, which was strawberry cloud crunch. She took one scoop, and her nose wrinkled.
"Uh-oh," Alina teased. "That face means no."
Anya shook her head dramatically. "Too sweet."
Kai leaned over and stole a spoonful himself. "It's fine."
She pointed at him accusingly. "That's because you are sweet."
Alina choked slightly on her own spoon, looking away quickly to hide her smile. Anya then tried the third flavour — Dark Chocolate Lava Burst. Her eyes widened instantly.
"This!" she announced loudly. "This is a superhero flavour."
Kai grinned proudly. "I chose that one."
She nodded seriously. "You have good taste."
Between bites, she gave dramatic reactions — scrunching her nose, widening her eyes, tapping her chin thoughtfully like a food critic. A tiny bit of chocolate ice cream ended up on the tip of her nose without her realizing. Kai noticed first. He didn't laugh. He simply reached for a tissue calmly, leaned closer, and gently wiped her nose.
"Battle scar," he murmured. "Cleared."
She giggled, and Alina watched that small gesture — the natural protectiveness in him. It wasn't forced. It wasn't performative. It was instinct. That's when her eyes fell on Anya's school bag resting beside her. A small keychain dangled from its zipper.
Kai noticed it at the same time. His fingers stilled. It was the same keychain he had given her before her operation.
"You still have it?" he asked quietly.
Anya followed his gaze and smiled. "Of course."
"You kept it all this time?"
She nodded proudly. "It was my lucky charm."
Alina's chest tightened again. Anya suddenly turned toward Alina with narrowed eyes.
"Anya," Kai said casually between bites, "I forgot to introduce her. This is Alina."
"I remember her," Anya said immediately.
"You… what?" Kai asked.
Anya pointed her spoon at Alina. "It was you, right? You came to see me in the hospital." Alina froze for a second.