1 years had passed since that day David had left the village. Life in the city had been predictable, stable, and busy with work, Victoria, and little Isabelle. But a restlessness had grown inside him, a curiosity—and maybe guilt—that he could no longer ignore.
One quiet afternoon, he finally made a decision. He would return to the village, to the girl he had abandoned, to see the child he had never known.
The journey was long, the roads winding through green hills and dusty paths. Memories he had tried to bury came back with every mile—their walks, their conversations, and the night he had left her alone.
By the time he arrived at the edge of the village, the sun was beginning to set. He could see the familiar paths, the small mud huts, and the smoke rising from cooking fires. Everything looked the same, yet he felt a strange tension in the air.
As he walked through the village, people stopped their work to stare. Whispers followed him like shadows.
"Eh, isn't that the man who left Hannah?"
"He came back after all this year!"
"Do you think he knows about the child?"
David ignored the comments, keeping his eyes forward. Finally, he reached Hannah's small home. The wooden door looked worn but sturdy, and for the first time, he hesitated.
He took a deep breath and knocked. The sound echoed faintly.
Inside, Hannah heard the knock. She had been preparing dinner, Ella sleeping nearby. She froze, her heart pounding. Who could it be?
Hannah opened the door slowly. And there he stood—David, older, more serious, but still the same face she had remembered.
"Hannah," he said quietly, his voice carrying both apology and something heavier—regret.
Hannah's eyes narrowed, a mix of shock and anger flashing across her face. "What are you doing here?" she asked sharply, her voice steady despite the storm in her chest.
David swallowed, trying to find the right words. "I… I came to see you. And the baby he said,
"David," she said, her voice trembling with controlled fury, "I… I need you to leave."
He blinked, surprised. "Hannah… I came—"
"No!" she interrupted sharply. "I said, leave! You left me… you refused me, you hurt me, you abandoned me when I needed you the most. And now, after all this time, you come saying you want to see me?"
Her voice grew stronger, rising with every word. "No, David. No! Go away from my home. I don't want to see you, and I don't want you near us—me and Ella. Stay away."
David opened his mouth again, searching for something to say, but Hannah shook her head firmly, holding the door between them like a shield.
"David… please," she whispered, softer now but with unwavering strength. "Go. Leave us alone. We will survive without you. Go."
"Ella! , he repeated … it's a girl," he said softly, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in his voice. "Hannah… may I… at least see her, even for a moment?"
Hannah's eyes flared with anger. "No, David!" she snapped. "Do you remember that day? The day you said this child was not yours? The day you refused to help, refused to care, refused to raise her? And now you want to see her? For what?"
David opened his mouth, trying to explain, but Hannah shook her head firmly.
"Go away!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the small house. "Leave my home, leave me, and leave Ella. Go back to your life, to your family. She is mine, and I will protect her. You have no right here. Now go!"
David froze for a moment, the weight of her words pressing on him like never before. He looked at Hannah, at the determination in her eyes, the fire that had grown from months of pain and struggle.
Hannah stepped closer to the door, "You hurt me, David. You left me alone. And now you want to come here, after everything, and act like you care? No. Not anymore. Leave! Just leave us David. Go back to your family."
David hesitated at the door, his eyes softening as he looked at Hannah . Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.
"Hannah… please, take this," he said, holding out the money carefully. "At least accept some help… for her, for Ella."
Hannah's eyes flashed with anger. She shook her head firmly, stepping closer to the door.
"No, David!" she shouted. "I don't want anything from you. Do you hear me? Nothing!"
David looked down, hurt and surprised by her refusal. "But… I just want to help…" he murmured.
"You should have thought of help when I needed it the most," Hannah replied, her voice shaking but strong. "You abandoned me, David. You refused me, you hurt me, and now you come with money? I don't want anything from you. Not now, not ever. Leave my home, leave me, and go back to your family."
David remained silent for a moment, the weight of her words pressing heavily on him. Finally, with a sigh and a heavy heart, he tucked his wallet back into his pocket.
Hannah stood her ground, "Go," she whispered fiercely. "And don't ever come back here."
David gave a long, quiet look, full of regret, before finally turning and walking away. The door closed firmly behind him.
Hannah exhaled deeply, tears of frustration and relief mingling on her cheeks. She looked down at Ella and whispered softly, "See, my light… no one can hurt us again. Not him, not anyone." We need nothing from him. We have each other and that is enough".
David walked slowly through the familiar hallways of his home, the quiet hum of the city outside barely reaching him. The house felt normal, peaceful, yet inside him, chaos brewed.
"She's a girl… Ella," he whispered under his breath, thinking of the child he had refused to see. "I will have her… no matter what."
He sank into his chair in the study, rubbing his face with his hands. The words of Hannah still echoed in his mind—her anger, her strength, her refusal to accept anything from him.
"I know… Hannah had no guilt," he muttered to himself. "I know she couldn't have lied to me. She wouldn't. She… she's honest, strong… but it's hard. It's hard for me to accept the truth, even after all this time."
His eyes fell on a small photograph of Isabelle smiling on the desk. The contrast between his city life—his family, comfort, routine—and the child he had left behind weighed heavily on him.
"I betrayed her… I abandoned her," he murmured, his voice low, almost a whisper. "And now… there is no turning back. I can't undo the past, but I… I can't stop thinking about her… about Ella."
David leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The room was quiet, but inside, his mind was loud with questions he didn't want to answer. Regret. Desire. Confusion. All tangled together in a storm he could not control.
"She's innocent," he said finally, a heavy sigh escaping him. "She didn't ask for any of this. And Hannah… she has carried everything alone. I… I failed them both."
For the first time in years, David felt powerless—not because of anyone else, but because of the consequences of his own choices. And deep inside, a small, unspoken thought lingered: I want her… my daughter. No matter what it takes.
On the other side of the world, in her small village home, Hannah held Ella close as the night moonlight filtered gently through the small window.
Ella giggled, reaching out with tiny hands, and Hannah laughed softly, brushing her hair back. "You are full of energy today, little one," she said warmly.
She sang a soft lullaby, her voice gentle but filled with love, letting Ella's tiny body sway in her arms. Afterwards, she told her stories—tales of brave children, magical forests, and animals that could talk. Ella listened intently, her eyes wide with wonder.
As night grew deeper, Hannah tucked Ella into the small bed, brushing a soft kiss across her forehead. "Sleep well, my little light," she whispered. "Tomorrow we will play again, and I will tell you more stories."
The house was quiet now, peaceful and safe. Hannah sat beside her, watching Ella sleep, feeling a warm happiness spread through her chest. For the first time in years, she felt a true sense of calm.
Days passed like this. They laughed, they played, they shared quiet moments of love and joy. Life was not always easy, but Hannah had Ella, and that was enough.
Months went by, and Ella grew stronger, brighter, and more curious every day. Hannah never let a day pass without reminding her daughter that she was loved, cherished, and protected—no matter what.
In their small home, surrounded by the soft sounds of the village, they lived in happiness and peace, one day blending into the next, the years slowly passing by.