The next morning, sunlight streamed into Elara's room, but she didn't feel its warmth.
Her mind still echoed with her father's words from the night before: "You are not a trouble, Elara. You are my daughter."
She had replayed that line a hundred times.
In her first life, Lord Vion had rarely spoken her name — and when he did, it was sharp, distant, filled with disappointment.
Now… there was guilt in his eyes. Real guilt.
As she sat quietly, the door opened again.
"Good morning, my lady." A maid entered, bowing. "The master wishes to have breakfast with you in the solarium."
Elara blinked. "Breakfast… with Father?"
"Yes, my lady. He insisted."
Her chest tightened. Father never eats with anyone except Mother.
She dressed in a simple pale blue gown and followed the maid to the solarium — a bright room of glass walls and sunlight. The long table was filled with warm dishes, fresh tea, and flowers. Her father sat at the head, newspaper folded beside him.
When he looked up, his stern expression softened immediately. "Come. Sit."
She obeyed, uncertain.
Silence hung between them for a moment — the kind that once used to choke her. But now, it felt… fragile.
"You should eat more," he said finally. "You've lost weight."
"I'm fine," she murmured, lowering her gaze.
His fork paused midair. "Elara."
She looked up.
He sighed, placing his utensils down. "I should have been here sooner. I was too… occupied with matters that shouldn't have come before family."
She stared at him, speechless. He's apologizing?
He looked older in the daylight — tired, almost haunted.
"When you fainted," he continued quietly, "I realized something. Everything I've built means nothing if my daughter's health is at risk."
Her throat tightened. She wanted to tell him he didn't have to feel guilty — that in her previous life, she never blamed him. But the words wouldn't come.
Father," she said softly, "I'm fine now. Truly."
His eyes glistened with a faint relief. "Then rest well, my child. No more pushing yourself for the academy or expectations. I'll handle everything else."
She smiled faintly. "You don't need to—"
"I do," he interrupted gently. "Because I failed you once. I won't again."
Her breath caught.
For the first time in both her lives, her father's voice trembled.
That morning, she saw not the powerful Lord Vion — but a man who had finally remembered how to love his daughter.