Chapter 59: The Family’s Pain and Regret

The grand mansion stood still under the dim glow of the moonlight. Inside, the atmosphere was unusually quiet, yet thick with emotions. The absence of the mistress and the young master was deeply felt, and in the living room, the family sat together, lost in their own thoughts, memories haunting them like ghosts of the past.

The father sat on the large couch, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together tightly as he stared at the floor. His mind was filled with images he wished he could erase—images of his son, broken and battered, trembling under the hands of those who were supposed to be his family.

His daughters sat around him, their expressions mirroring the sorrow in his heart. Lily, the eldest, was the first to break the silence. "Father... what's wrong? You seem more disturbed than usual."

He let out a shaky breath, shaking his head. "I was just thinking..." His voice wavered, and his daughters leaned in closer. "I was just remembering the day I went to get my son back."

His grip tightened as the painful memory resurfaced. "I had waited two long months to bring him home because for the debt I had when my wife was hospitalized. I thought... I thought he would be okay, that he was being cared for. But when I arrived at my brother's house, what I saw—what I witnessed—is something I will never forget."

His voice cracked as the memory overwhelmed him. "He was on the ground... bleeding. His tiny body was trembling, his clothes were torn, and his eyes—his beautiful, innocent eyes—were filled with fear. He couldn't even see me properly, couldn't even speak."

His daughters gasped, their eyes welling up with tears.

"Father..." one of them whispered, her voice laced with heartbreak.

"When I ran to him, I could feel how fragile he had become. He had lost so much weight... he had become so weak," he continued, his hands trembling. "And then... he lost consciousness in my arms. At that moment, I thought I had lost him. Just like I lost my first wife."

Tears streamed down his face as his daughters reached out, their hands resting on his shoulders, trying to comfort him. "It was my fault," he muttered bitterly. "My fault for leaving him there. My fault for trusting my brother. My fault for not bringing him home sooner, after my debt cleared."

Lily clenched her fists. "Father, please don't blame yourself. We know how much you love him. We all do."

"But I failed him," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "If it wasn't for your mother... I don't even know what would have happened."

Another memory struck him like a dagger to the chest—his wife's expression when she saw their son in his arms, unconscious and bleeding. He had broken down in front of her, pleading, blaming himself, unable to bear the sight of his child in such a state.

But she had remained strong.

"She didn't cry. She didn't waste time. She told me to stop crying and to get in the car. She ordered the bodyguards to handle my brother and his family while she rode with us to the hospital. I held onto our son so tightly... as if I was afraid he would disappear."

The daughters listened intently, their own hearts aching as their father continued. "At the hospital, the doctor yelled at me. He accused me of being reckless, of failing my duty as a father. He told me how critical my son's condition was, how his body could heal but his mind—his spirit—had been shattered."

Silence filled the room as the weight of those words settled upon them.

"I was afraid," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid that he would never smile again, that he would never trust again. And when he finally woke up... he was so silent. So empty. He wouldn't speak, wouldn't react. He was just... there."

His daughters began to cry softly, remembering the days when their little brother had first arrived at their home and when they met there little brother because in past after he married to there mother and became a part of this family and became there father and who he always talk about his son etc, the pain in his eyes, the way he would flinch at the smallest touch, the way he would sit alone, disconnected from the world.

"But mother never gave up on him," one of them said, wiping her tears. "She stayed by his side every second. She did everything to make him feel safe, to make him feel loved."

He nodded, a small, sad smile forming on his lips. "And now, thanks to her... and thanks to all of you... he's healing. Little by little, he's accepting us. He's finally calling you his sisters. He's smiling. He's playing."

"And he forgave you, Father," another daughter said gently. "So you need to forgive yourself."

He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I know. I just... every time I remember that day, I feel like I don't deserve it. I don't deserve his forgiveness."

His daughters exchanged glances before moving closer, wrapping their arms around him in a warm embrace. "Father," Lily whispered, "we're a family. And families heal together."

For the first time in a long time, a small sense of peace filled his heart. He hugged them back, letting their warmth remind him that he was not alone, that they were all in this together.

Then, as they pulled away, he took a deep breath and said, "Your mother called earlier. She said she and our son will be sleeping at the office tonight due to urgent work."

The daughters groaned in unison. "That's not fair! We won't get to see our little brother before bed!" one of them pouted.

"He always sleeps in Mother's arms," another added. "I wanted to hug him too!"

Their father chuckled softly at their reactions. "You'll see him tomorrow. Now go get some sleep."

One by one, the daughters reluctantly made their way to their rooms, though the longing to see their little brother remained.

As their father sat alone for a moment, he looked up at the ceiling, whispering to himself, "No matter what happens, I will protect my family. I will never fail them again."

With that final vow, he rose from the couch and headed to his room, ready to face another day, determined to make things right.

The night passed with the quiet hum of emotions, the love of a family growing stronger, and the promise of a brighter future ahead.