The sleek ambiance of Best Western Restaurant did little to calm Michael as he sat at the table, waiting for his blind date to arrive. The muted clink of silverware, soft hum of conversations, and the smooth jazz playing in the background should have soothed him, but his thoughts were far from the present moment. His sister, Sandra, had insisted on setting him up, but nothing could prepare him for what was about to unfold.

Just as he took a sip from his glass of wine, a small excited voice pierced through the air. "Daddy, why don't you recognize me?"

Michael choked on his drink, his heart leaping into his throat as he looked down to see a little girl clinging to his leg. She was a bundle of warmth, her round eyes wide with innocence and pleading, and her small hands holding onto him like a lifeline.

Confused, Michael knelt down slightly, feeling the weight of her words. "Little one, you’re mistaken. I’m not your daddy. Where’s your mommy? I’ll take you to her." He said to her with a gentle smile on his face.

But the little girl wasn’t budging. Her lips quivered as she met his gaze, her voice soft but insistent, "I’m not mistaken. You’re my daddy. You just don’t want to acknowledge me."

Before Michael could process her words, a smooth, confident voice rang out from behind him. It was almost like the air around him shifted.

“Tamara, come here, sweetie.”

Michael turned sharply, his gaze drawn to the woman who had spoken. Trina stood across the room, every step she took seeming to command the very air around her. Her presence was magnetic—tall, graceful, with a beauty that took his breath away. Her raven black hair cascaded down her back in waves, and her sharp, intelligent eyes gleamed with something unspoken.

As she approached, his heart skipped a beat. Trina wasn’t just another attractive woman—she was a force, someone who left an undeniable mark on everything she touched. The kind of woman whose mere gaze could bring any man to his knees, if not in submission, then in awe.

Tamara released Michael’s leg and rushed toward her mother, but Michael couldn’t tear his eyes away from Trina. His pulse quickened.

"Excuse me, lady," Michael started, his voice surprisingly steady despite the chaos in his mind. "This little one has mistaken me for her father. Could you please take her away?"

Trina gave him a small, knowing smile. “You’re mistaken, Michael,” she replied, her voice a soft, melodic tone that made Michael's heart ache with a yearning he couldn’t explain. "Tamara isn’t mistaken. She’s our daughter. You don’t remember, do you?"

Michael froze, his entire body going cold as memories long buried resurfaced in a rush. The last time he had seen Trina had been five years ago, in a moment of reckless passion—a night he had never forgotten, though it had been veiled in the fog of uncertainty.

He recalled a stormy night in New York City, driving through the rain when a desperate woman had flagged him down. Behind her, several burly men were in pursuit. The woman was crying for help. Without a second thought, he had let her into his car, only to realize far too late that she was drugged and vulnerable. The night had become a blur of instinct, a whirl of emotions he had neither expected nor understood. He had helped her, taken her to a hotel room where he was staying and everything spiralled out of control. She threw herself at him...she was horny..some of the drugs might have been ecstacy, he could feel her body on him, her small firm breasts, her breath on his face and her lips on his...Michael had also had a few Tequila shots prior and his mind was going crazy....

Being a young man full of passion, he couldn't resist...and that night had ended up being one of the shortest passionate nights of his life. The next morning, she was gone. All he had left was the memory of her beauty, her name which he had learnt as he let her into his car and the haunting ache of the unspoken connection between them. But now, seeing her again, the full realization hit him.

"Trina?" he whispered in disbelief. "You... You were that woman?"

Her lips curved into a sad smile, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. “It was me,” she replied quietly, her voice soft and knowing. “Do you believe now that Tamara is your daughter?”

The weight of her words crushed into him like a storm. He looked down at Tamara again—her small face, her eyes that held the same spark he had seen in his own reflection years ago. Could it be? Was this really his daughter? His heart clenched at the thought, the reality sinking in like a heavy, intoxicating wine.

Tamara reached up to him again, her hands trembling, and her voice was a whisper, “Daddy... Please don’t leave me.”

Michael’s heart shattered at the vulnerability in her voice. He could feel the invisible threads that connected him to her pulling him closer. For the first time in years, something deep within him began to stir—a part of him he thought had been long buried. The connection he felt with this little girl, this innocent soul, was undeniable.

“I... I need a moment,” Michael said, his voice raw with emotion as he stood up abruptly. He needed to escape the whirlwind that had become his life in the last few minutes. His shaky legs carried him out into the cool night air, and he lit a cigarette, his hands shaking slightly.

As the smoke curled into the night sky, his mind raced. This wasn’t just a blind date. This was a collision of fate. The woman in his past, the woman who had left him haunted by her beauty, had returned—and with her, a child who might be his own. He felt a strange mix of guilt and desire, both of which twisted inside him like a storm.

Trying to clear his mind, he called his sister, Sandra, in a desperate attempt to make sense of it all. But her enthusiastic voice immediately shattered his already fragile composure.

"How is she, little brother? Gorgeous, isn’t she? I knew you’d hit the jackpot with Trina!"

Michael's voice was barely a whisper. “But… she has a child.”

Sandra’s laughter crackled through the line, oblivious. "She adopted her! She’s amazing, Michael! You’re going to be so lucky!"

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to hold back the frustration and confusion. This was all too much to process.

But before he could respond, a scream from inside the restaurant tore his attention away.

“Tamara! Tamara, what’s wrong?!” Trina’s voice was laced with panic, and Michael’s heart raced.

Inside, he saw her cradling Tamara, whose face was deathly pale, blood trickling from her nose. Something inside Michael snapped, and without thinking, he rushed to them.

"Tamara!" He scooped the child into his arms, his sharp gaze scanning her fragile body. His supernatural ability—the gift he had honed over the years in isolation after loosing his best friend to leukemia—allowed him to see the truth. The sickness was there, hidden beneath her small body.

“She has leukemia,” Michael murmured, his voice filled with grim certainty.

Trina froze, her face pale with shock. “No. That’s not possible. She’s always been healthy and I always take her for annual checkups. Besides, you need to test someone's bone marrow to diagnose leukemia, You must be mistaken!”

But Michael was confident beyond reasoning. He could see it in her blood, in the way her body trembled. Tamara needed treatment. Fast.

As he rushed to the hospital with Trina by his side, he felt a new sense of connection to both of them. His daughter—his flesh and blood—was in his arms. He had no idea what fate had in store, but one thing was certain: His life had changed in a way he could never have imagined.

Later on, the doctor finally came out of the emergency room, Trina broke down into tears......Michael's hands started shivering uncontrollably when they saw the doctor's sombre mood; his scrubs drenched in blood. Had he lost his daughter even before he actually met her?.......