"Come on, sweetheart," her mother said gently, her fingers still wrapped around Mia's small hand.
Her voice softened, carrying the familiar tone she used whenever she wanted something badly.
"This is what you've always wanted, right?
A comfortable life.
Your uncle Richard and I will provide everything for you.
The best clothes, the best food, the best schools. You won't ever lack anything."
Mia didn't answer immediately.
She slowly lifted her eyes from her mother's face and looked toward her father.
Daniel stood a few steps away, silent, his hands clenched at his sides.
He wasn't speaking, wasn't interrupting, but his eyes said everything his mouth could not.
They were fixed on Mia, filled with fear, hope, and a quiet, desperate plea.
Please… say no.
Mia felt it. She felt the weight of both of them pressing down on her small chest.
Her mother's hand was warm and firm, holding her tightly as if afraid she might slip away.
Her father's gaze was heavy, trembling with restraint, as though one wrong word would shatter him completely.
She swallowed.
"Before I make my decision," Mia said slowly, her voice shaking but determined, "I have one question to ask you both."
The room still went.
Her mother smiled quickly, relief flickering across her face.
"Go ahead, sweetheart. Mommy will answer all your questions."
Mia turned her head slightly and looked at her father again.
Daniel didn't speak, but she knew—deep down—that he was waiting.
Waiting for her to say something that mattered.
Waiting for her to be brave.
She took a deep breath.
"Between the two of you," Mia asked quietly, "who asked for the divorce?"
The question landed like a slap.
Her mother's smile stiffened.
For a brief second, her eyes darkened, and she laughed lightly, as if brushing it off.
"Sweetheart," she said, "is that question really important?"
Mia nodded.
"Yes, Mom. To me, it is important."
Silence stretched painfully across the room.
Daniel's chest tightened. He had promised himself—no more lies. Not to her. Not ever again.
"Your mother was the one who asked for the divorce," he said quietly from behind.
The words were calm, honest, and final.
Her mother's head snapped toward him, eyes blazing.
"Who asked you to answer that?" she snapped angrily. "I know it's your plan to make my daughter hate me! You're manipulating her—that's why you made her ask such a question!"
Daniel didn't respond.
He didn't defend himself. He didn't argue.
But Mia did.
"Mom," Mia said sharply, surprising even herself, "stop blaming Dad for something he didn't do."
Her mother stared at her, stunned.
For a moment, something unreadable crossed her face—hurt, anger, resentment. Then her lips curved into a bitter smile.
"Yes," she said coldly. "I was the one who asked for the divorce. And honestly, I should have done it much earlier."
Daniel flinched.
"Because this father of yours," she continued, her voice rising, "had no plans, no ambition to get rich. Which man in his right senses refuses to get a proper job and instead uses every small money he gets to do stupid Forex trades? Trades he kept losing!"
She gestured angrily toward Daniel. "He wasn't helping this family grow. He was dragging us down. So tell me, sweetheart—was I wrong?"
"Enough!" Daniel snapped, his voice breaking through the room like thunder. "I know you're materialistic and money-minded, but that doesn't give you the right to insult me in front of my daughter!"
"Mom! Dad!" Mia cried, tears forming again. "Please stop. We're in the hospital."
"It's not me," her mother said angrily, folding her arms.
"It's your father!"
Daniel's shoulders slumped.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said softly. He moved away from the bed, sat down on a chair near the wall, and lowered his head.
The fight drained out of him, leaving only exhaustion and pain.
Mia looked at him—really looked at him.
She saw the man who bathed her when she was sick. The man who stayed awake through the night holding her hand. The man who did everything possible to keep her alive.
She turned back to her mother.
"Mom," Mia said slowly, "I have no problem with you choosing comfort over family. Truly. If that's what makes you happy, I'm glad for you."
Her mother blinked, caught off guard.
"But," Mia continued, her small voice firm, "that doesn't mean I will abandon my dad the same way you abandoned him."
The words struck hard.
Daniel sucked in a sharp breath, relief flooding him so suddenly that his eyes burned. He hadn't realized how tightly he'd been holding himself together until that moment.
"Sweetheart," her mother said, shaken, "what do you mean?"
Mia turned fully toward her father.
"I'm sorry, Mom," she said gently. "But I want to be with my dad."
The room erupted.
"What about your health?" her mother asked urgently. "What about your education? Your future? How will you survive?"
Mia didn't hesitate.
"Mom, don't worry," she said. "Dad is going to take good care of me. And remember—he's the one who paid for my operation. So I know he can take care of me."
Her mother's lips trembled. "Are you sure?" she asked quietly.
"Yes, Mom," Mia said. "I want to be with my dad."
From the doorway, Richard finally spoke.
"If she has decided to stay with her dad, then let's not disturb her anymore," he said casually. "I told you already—we should leave her with him."
He turned to her mother.
"Come on. Wake up. Let's leave this place."
Her mother stood slowly, her face hardening once more.
"All right, sweetheart," she said coldly. "But I really hope you don't regret your choice."
She turned toward Daniel.
"And you—make sure you take care of my daughter. Don't kill her with hunger and starvation."
With that, she walked out of the room, Richard following closely behind.
The door closed.
Silence fell.
Mia's strength vanished instantly.
Tears poured freely down her face as she looked at her father—the only one left.
Daniel stood up slowly, his legs shaking as he walked toward her.
And just as he reached the bed, Mia broke down completely, sobbing in a way that tore straight through his heart.