The Island He Gave Away for His First Love

On the day of my daughter's birthday celebration, I bought an island for her.

Unfortunately, on our way there, the yacht malfunctioned. Water flooded the cabin, and before we could react, my daughter and I were thrown into the sea.

I was rescued, but my daughter was swallowed by the ocean.

Grief consumed me, causing me to blame myself over and over again.

My husband consoled me with a sorrowful expression, yet behind my back, he gifted the island that was supposed to be our daughter's to the son of his first love.

I overheard his conversation with his first love.

“That adopted daughter of mine? How could she ever compare to your son? The fact that her heart, liver, and kidneys were a match for Harvey and saved his life is her blessing.”

“So what if she didn’t die when she fell into the sea? It was fate that her organs matched your son’s!”

“I raised her for so many years; she owed me this much. And she still had the audacity to think she deserved that island as a birthday gift? Ridiculous. That island was meant for your son from the start. How could I possibly give it to that adopted girl?”

After knowing that this was his plan all along, I chose to leave him.

However, he begged for my forgiveness and pleaded for another chance.

I told him I would forgive him, only if he could return my daughter to me.

But could he?

——

Three months have passed since that fateful day. She was gone. Her life ended on the day that was meant to be her celebration.

During this time, I was consumed by grief and endless guilt. I often found myself flipping through my daughter's photo album, my tears soaking the pages.

My husband, Simon Garland, tried to comfort me, his face heavy with sorrow. "Dear, you have to stay strong," he pleaded.

"Cecilia is watching over us from heaven. She wouldn’t want to see you like this."

"My beloved Cecilia is already gone. If something happens to you too, how will I go on?"

His words gave me the strength to move again, so I decided to visit the island, the one I had bought as a grand surprise for my daughter’s birthday celebration.

I had put my heart into that island, arranging everything for her. A beautiful mansion, a playground, and even a towering Capybara statue.

She adored them. I had even arranged for real Capybaras to live there, all in anticipation of her joy.

In the end, my daughter never got to see all the things I had painstakingly prepared for her.

With a heavy heart, I gathered some of her belongings, determined to build a tomb for her on the island.

I did not tell Simon. He was always too busy.

More importantly, I held myself responsible for her death. This was something I needed to do alone.

When I returned to the shore and faced the vast expanse of the sea, my body trembled, my face pale.

Ever since the accident, I had developed an overwhelming fear of the ocean. Even I was so of water itself.

For three months, I could not even bring myself to take a bath, the mere thought of submersion sending shivers down my spine.

But at last, I forced myself to push past my fear and step onto a new yacht.

As the vessel cut through the waves, drawing closer to the place where my daughter was lost, my hands clenched into fists, my heart pounding with unease.

And then, I saw the island. Tears immediately welled in my eyes.

This was where we had fallen into the sea.

That day, the yacht malfunctioned. Water flooded the cabin. My daughter and I were thrown overboard. I could not swim, so within moments, I was choking, sinking into darkness.

By the time I regained consciousness, my daughter had been swallowed by the ocean’s depths and was gone forever.

There had been a captain and two crew members aboard, who were all skilled swimmers. Yet even they had failed to save her in time.