Vampire Master - English Version

Father's Love

I sat at the kitchen table, my phone pressed to my ear, a smile stretching across my face as I finalized the arrangements for Ella's surprise 18th birthday party. The warm glow of the overhead light reflected off the polished wood, and the faint chirp of crickets filtered in from the garden outside.

"Yes, that's perfect," I said, nodding even though the person on the other end couldn't see me. "Please make sure everything is in order. This day means so much to her—and to me. Thank you so much."

I ended the call and set the phone down gently, pausing for a moment to let the joy of it all sink in. My chest swelled with pride and excitement. My little girl, my Ella, was turning 18. Where had the time gone?

A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. I stood up, brushing my hands on my pants, and made my way down the narrow hallway to answer it. The wooden floor creaked softly under my feet, a familiar sound that reminded me of the countless nights I'd paced these halls, worrying about Ella or planning how to make her smile.

Opening the door, I was greeted by a cheerful delivery man holding a large cardboard box. His smile was infectious, matching my own excitement.

"Delivery for you, sir!" he said brightly.

"Ah, perfect timing!" I exclaimed, signing the receipt with a slightly trembling hand. "Thank you so much."

As soon as the door closed, I carried the box carefully to Ella's room. The weight of it wasn't just physical—it was symbolic, holding all the hopes and love I had poured into this day.

Her door was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open with my foot. The soft glow of her bedside lamp illuminated the room, casting warm shadows on the walls. There she was, my Ella, curled up under her blanket, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Her wavy purple hair fanned out across the pillow, catching the light in a way that made her look almost ethereal.

I placed the box gently on her desk, careful not to make a sound, and turned my attention back to her. She looked so peaceful, so young, yet so grown up. My heart ached with a mix of pride and longing. How had the years passed so quickly?

"It's amazing," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "It feels like just yesterday you were so small, clinging to my hand and asking for another bedtime story. And now..." My words trailed off as I swallowed the lump forming in my throat.

The memories flooded back in waves—her first steps, the way she'd run into my arms after a scraped knee, the proud look on her face when she won her first volleyball game. Every moment felt like a lifetime ago, yet also just yesterday.

"You've grown into such a fine young woman," I continued, my voice trembling slightly. "Your mother would be so proud of you, Ella. Just as I am."

I blinked back tears, my vision blurring for a moment. Raising Ella had been my greatest challenge. After her mother passed away, I had been terrified—terrified of failing her, of not being enough. But standing here now, looking at her, I felt a deep sense of fulfillment. She was my everything, my reason to keep going.

I glanced at the box on the desk, my lips curving into a soft smile. Inside was the gift I had spent weeks planning. It wasn't just a present—it was a symbol of how much I believed in her, how much I wanted her to know that she was loved and cherished.

"Everything I've done," I murmured, "has been for you."

I stepped closer to her bed, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Her skin was soft and warm under my fingertips, and for a moment, I allowed myself to simply look at her. The weight of the years, the sacrifices, and the nights spent worrying about the future all melted away in that instant.

I took a deep breath, straightening up. The room was quiet except for the faint rustle of leaves outside and the soft hum of the night.

"Good night, my Ella," I whispered, my voice filled with all the love I couldn't put into words.

I lingered for a moment longer before stepping back into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind me. The house felt still, the kind of stillness that held memories in every corner. As I walked back to the kitchen, I passed the small family photo on the wall. My gaze lingered on my late wife's smiling face.

"I hope I've done enough," I whispered, my voice breaking slightly. "I hope you're proud of her. Of us."

Sitting back down at the kitchen table, I stared at the flickering candle in the center. Its flame danced gently, casting shadows that seemed to mirror the bittersweet emotions swirling in my chest. Despite everything, I felt grateful. Grateful for Ella, for the life we had built together, and for the privilege of being her father.

I picked up my phone again, checking the details for tomorrow's surprise. A small smile crept onto my face as I imagined her reaction—the joy, the laughter, the tears.

Yes, it was all worth it. Every sleepless night, every doubt, every sacrifice—it was all for her. And as long as I lived, I would continue to give her the best I could.