Chapter 1

When I submitted my application for rural volunteer work, my department director, Randy Bosworth, urgently pulled me aside.

“Dante, this assignment will last at least fifteen years. You’ve always cherished your wife and child—maybe sit this one out.

“You know what this means for those children,” he pressed. “It’s not a decision to make lightly.”

I listened to his earnest advice, then nodded firmly.

“Trust me, Randy. After all these years of working, this has always been my dream. As for my wife and daughter, someone better will take care of them.”

Then I shook his hand, my resolve unshaken.

Randy sighed and gave my shoulder a helpless pat.

“I understand, Dante. But teaching out there isn’t just hard—it can be dangerous. Poverty breeds more than hardship; it breeds fear and mistrust. I hope you’re ready for that.”

Before I made my decision, I had done my research.

Yes, poverty and backwardness often come hand-in-hand with outdated beliefs. But I wasn’t afraid of hardship or danger.

“Children from the mountains must have a path out. Only then can there be progress.

“You’re a teacher too, Randy. You understand. If they give in to fear, they’ll never leave the mountains. And that’s something I refuse to accept.”

I chose this road because I, too, came from the mountains. Where I came from is where I ought to return.

That’s what my teacher once taught me.

“Good, good, good. You truly are an exceptional teacher. I’m proud of you. We’ll always remember your sacrifice. Go home and get ready. You leave in a day.”

Randy had known my teacher, had watched me grow, and understood everything in my heart.

On the way home, I looked up at the sunlight. It felt warm, like the road I was about to walk.

Ahead, everything stretched out like an open path.

“Uncle Jason, hurry and catch me!”

As I stepped through the door, my daughter, Luna Smith, tumbled laughing into my legs, startling me into bending down.

I was just about to comfort her when I saw her turn around and complain to Jason Miller with a pout.

“Uncle Jason! The door opened—why didn’t you tell me? I’m mad now. I’m not playing with you anymore!”

“Luna…” I said gently. My throat felt dry, my chest tight with a dull, bitter ache.

“What are you calling me for? If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have fallen. You’re a bad Daddy. Move aside.”

Luna shoved me with all her might. She was small, and her strength meant nothing, but the motion cut deeper than any wound, and I could barely stay standing.

“Dante, you’re back. Amber is tidying up the room. Feel free to sit anywhere,” Jason said casually.

There wasn’t a trace of guilt in his expression.

He lifted Luna effortlessly with one arm and, with the other, picked up a cup and poured me some water.

“Here, have something to drink. I’ll keep Luna company for a bit—make yourself at home.”

His words were perfectly measured, exuding the calm confidence of a man who belonged.

That only made me feel more like an outsider, like I was trespassing.

This wasn’t a homecoming. It was a sentencing.

“Uncle Jason, why are you even talking to him? Mommy said he’s a stranger. We’re the real family.”

My fingers tightened around the cup until they turned pale.

I pressed my lips together, forcing a smile.

“Luna, would you like Daddy to play with you for a while?”

They say the bond between father and daughter is strong, and I loved my daughter deeply.

From the moment she was born, I had wanted to give her the world.

Now, the distance between us yawned like a chasm, and for the first time, I feared her.

“Go away. Who wants to play with you? I’m far too busy with my studies.”