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"I can't live without you," she sobbed, clenching the generic-brand jeans that belonged to him. "I can't, please don't leave me." Her short-cut black hair tousled at the crown bobbed up and down as she tried to resist those hiccups that was associated the art of crying.
"I'll be back, I promise. I'll be gone for only 5 days. Is that okay princess," his voice questioningly crooned as he crouched near the ground to pick her up and hold her in his almost delicate-looking arms. He held her up in the air, looking into her tear-filled gray eyes. "Don't cry, shh..."
"Daddy, you will promise, you better come back!" Her face was filled with defiance as she stared into his eyes while he brought her down to the floor. He took his small suitcase, brown leather, she remembered, that almost seemed to small to fit anything... yet, endearing to her it was as only a few days ago she had traced her fingers around his inscribed name attached to the top. "Don't forget this too," she shouted, pointing her finger at his blue travel suitcase which held his toiletries and clothes for an infinitely long trip.
How could he have told her the truth, that he was leaving the family consisting of her and her mother as she was only 6 years old? How could he let her know he would never want to see their faces again, surely filled with hate and disgust. Mother knew, she had pretended not to notice, though she was in a hospital being treated for some un-pronounceable sickness. She had thought he wouldn't leave her darling home alone. He rejected the thought that this was betrayal.
"I asked our next-door neighbor, you know, Deren's parents to take care of you while I'm gone and mommy's in the hospital. When I leave, be sure to go to their house and ask politely to use their phone to tell mommy that I had to leave and that it was urgent, okay?" He asked, dragging his suitcase with wheels behind him as the heavy wooden door was closing. He hated himself, but he couldn't stand it there. No, he couldn't live with himself.

Eighteen years passed; the daughter of the father who left with an eternal lie was twenty-three years of age. She was perfect in all aspects; intelligent, up-right, athletic, friendly, and beautiful. Her mother had passed away two days after her father had left; perhaps it was from the shock or perhaps it was the disease. Deren's family had taken care of her for a few years until her mother's sister took "care" of her. In truth, she had to grow up faster than everyone she knew. Cooking, cleaning, studying, two part-time jobs were everyday challenges she had to face because she basically had to pay for everything, including rent for her mother's sister's apartment which she barely came home, and eventually, her college tuition to for 15 years.

We find the story placed now at a classic restaurant. She sits at a small, round-shaped table covered in white cloth and lined with gold silk. Her long, now brown wavy-curled hair adorned with an intricately designed crystal-set metal hairclip elegantly touches her ribcage. She wears a simple long black dress with a thin blue ribbon encircling her hips and ties into a bow at her side.
"I'm sorry I'm late," a tall elegant man politely says, seating himself across the table from her. He wears a suit, single-breasted with a three-digit thread count and custom-tailored from a store somewhere in extravagant Italy. "I had something to finish up..." he trails off, thanking a waiter for giving him the dinner menu.
"It's no problem," she nonchalantly says, staring dismally at the menu but secretly staring into his brown eyes. Of course, he knew this.
The dinner goes on it's regular course. First an appetizer, then the main course, un-pronounceable French names priced at un-pronounceable prices. Then comes dessert. "This is... on the house," the waiter says, slipping a slice of marble cake decorated with gold-colored sugar sticks twisted in swirls and a diamond ring placed on top of the pink creme which topped off the cake. The gentleman stares at her face, sipping his 1945 white Zinfandel wine waiting for her reaction. At first, she doesn't seem to notice. She stares at the cake, adoring the elegant design of the sugar and appealing look of the cake. Her eyes eventually make it's way to the diamond ring. "...oh," she voices in a half surprised and hesitant voice as if to pause and wonder if a mistake had been made.
"I was wondering about your reaction... and an 'oh' is all I get?" He laughs and stands up, picking the ring from the cake like a delicate flower. He kneels down on the floor, holding the ring up for her to see. "Will you marry me," he asks, knowing at full the answer she will give him. Confidently, he reaches for her hand. "I love you like no other, I would want nothing less than to spend the rest of my life with you."
She accepts his gesture, saying nothing while grabbing his body to hug in an ecstatic manner. In her heart, she knows she loves him with her whole heart yet as she hugs him, a twisted smile creeps onto her face.

"Daddy..." she whispers, six years later, six years after their marriage ceremony, five years after the birth of their son. She turns to her son and brightly says "I'll be back in a week, okay?"
"I can't live without you," he sobbed, clenching the white laced skirt that belonged to her. "I can't, please don't leave me." His short-cut black hair parted at the side bobbed up and down as he tried to resist those hiccups that was associated the art of crying.