"Sometimes, hope doesn't bloom from loud prayers — but from hearts brave enough to wait in silence."
*****
(Author's POV)
The house felt quieter than usual that evening.
The living room lights were still off, letting the orange sunset filter through thin curtains and spill across the wooden floor — like the shadow of time refusing to leave.
In the middle of the room, Ella sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by scraps of colored paper and glue.
In her tiny hands was a small paper flower — uneven petals, mismatched colors, yet somehow… beautifully imperfect.
From the doorway, Brianna watched her silently.
"Sweetheart, what are you making?" she asked softly.
Ella turned, her smile as bright as sunlight.
"A wish flower, Mommy! I made it at the foundation earlier."
"A wish flower?" Brianna knelt beside her, curiosity melting into warmth.
"And whose wish is it?"
The little girl looked at the paper petals for a long moment before whispering, almost like sharing a secret with the wind.
"My own."
Brianna's lips curved faintly. "Can Mommy know what your wish is?"
Ella bit her lip, hesitating — then her voice came out small, fragile, but honest.
"I… I want a dad."
Silence fell.
Even time seemed to hold its breath.
Brianna's hand froze midair, inches away from her daughter's hair.
Her chest tightened — the calm she'd carefully built began to crumble under the weight of that innocent sentence.
Ella, oblivious to her mother's turmoil, just smiled and stared at the flower as if it really held magic.
"If I pray with my eyes closed, God will hear me, right, Mommy?"
Brianna swallowed the lump in her throat. "Yes, sweetheart… God always listens."
Ella closed her eyes and began to pray — quietly, sincerely.
The fading sunlight touched her face, painting her in a golden glow.
She looked like a fragment of hope that didn't yet know it was shaking the sky itself.
Brianna hugged her from behind, pressing a soft kiss to her sun-warmed hair.
"He hears you," she whispered. "He always does."
She was smiling — but her eyes weren't.
What she didn't say was that — the prayer had already been answered long ago.
She was just too afraid to admit it.
*****
Since that day at the foundation, Brayden hadn't shown up again.
No calls. No messages.
It was as if he had vanished — taking every unanswered question with him.
A week later, he appeared again.
This time, at Brianna's restaurant — where a charity event was being held to raise funds for a child's leukemia treatment.
Warm lights filled the place, soft laughter blending with the sound of clinking glasses.
On the small stage, Brianna stood gracefully, giving her speech.
Brayden stood among the guests, watching from afar.
After her speech, a few reporters approached her with polite but piercing questions.
"Mrs. Brianna, why did you choose to employ people with special needs in your restaurant?"
Brianna smiled gently, her tone calm and steady.
"Because I believe everyone deserves a fair chance to work and create — no matter their condition. The world often forgets that, but I don't want to."
Some reporters paused, visibly moved.
Another one asked, "And what inspired you to start this foundation?"
Her expression softened — a quiet ache flickering behind her eyes.
"A few years ago, my daughter was diagnosed with leukemia.
In the hospital, I met so many parents who fought for their children but couldn't afford the treatment. That day, I made a promise — if God ever healed my daughter, I'd help the children who weren't as lucky."
Her smile wavered slightly, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Thankfully, Ella recovered. And that promise… I'm keeping it."
Brayden stood motionless in the back, his gaze fixed on her.
The woman he once knew — now calm, mature, but carrying invisible scars. He didn't know whether to be proud of her strength — or broken by the fact that he was no longer part of it.
*****
In the corner of the room, Ella sat on a small chair, fiddling with a ribbon around her wrist.
She looked bored, swinging her legs idly — until her eyes met Brayden's.
He smiled faintly.
For some reason, she smiled back.
Brayden leaned toward his assistant. "Tian, take over for a while. I'll step out."
"Yes, sir," Tian replied.
Brayden walked toward the little girl.
"Hey, Ella. Getting a little bored?" he asked kindly.
Ella looked up. "You're the man who saw me drawing, right?"
Brayden froze.
That simple "man" — innocent, casual — still cut deep, as if calling out a part of him that had long been missing.
He managed a small nod. "You remember me?"
She nodded. "Mom's busy again. I don't know what to do."
Brayden glanced around. "Then how about we get some air? Just for a bit?"
Ella hesitated, then nodded.
They walked outside and sat on a wooden bench near the garden.
"Oh, by the way," Ella tilted her head curiously. "What's your name?"
"Brayden," he said.
Ella thought for a second, then grinned.
"That's hard. Can I just call you Uncle Ray?"
Brayden stilled — that name struck something deep inside him.
After a moment, he smiled faintly. "Sure. Whatever you like."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small blue box.
"I have something for you."
Ella opened it with wide eyes. Inside was a tiny silver bracelet, her name engraved in delicate letters: Briella.
Her face lit up. "This is for me?"
Brayden nodded. "Do you like it?"
"I love it!" she exclaimed — and before he could react, she wrapped her arms around him in a spontaneous hug.
For a second, Brayden froze.
Then slowly, he returned the embrace — his chest tightening with an ache he couldn't name.
"Want me to help you put it on?" he asked softly.
Ella nodded eagerly. "Yes, please!"
Brayden fastened the bracelet gently around her wrist, his fingers trembling slightly as if touching something sacred.
When he was done, she smiled proudly.
"It's so pretty! Uncle Ray, you're really good at this."
He chuckled quietly. "And you look even prettier wearing it."
Ella looked at the bracelet for a moment, then up at the sky painted in gold and lilac.
"If I hold my wish flower and pray really hard… do you think my dad can hear me, Uncle Ray?"
Brayden stared at her — that innocent smile twisting something deep within him.
He didn't know what to say.
She prayed for a father — not knowing that her prayer was already looking back at her.