Lala had always been curious—especially when it came to the people around CEO Kien. She loved his calm voice, warm hugs, and the peaceful life they shared. But there was one person she often saw in old photos around the house: a smiling man with kind eyes and a familiar presence.
One rainy afternoon, while Kien was cleaning out an old drawer, Lala spotted the same photo again. She gently pawed at it, tilting her head in curiosity.
Kien paused and smiled. “You want to know who that is, don’t you?”
He picked her up and sat down beside her, photo in hand. “That’s my older brother, Minh.”
Lala blinked, ears perked.
“He passed away many years ago,” Kien said softly, “but he loved animals—just like you. He used to rescue strays and even taught me how to take care of my first puppy.”
As Kien spoke, Lala rested her head on his lap, listening quietly.
“He would have loved you, Lala. You remind me of him—kind, loyal, always watching out for others.”
Suddenly, it all made sense to Lala—the familiar scent in the guest room, the quiet smile on Kien’s face when he stood by the photo shelf, the reason Kien always took such gentle care of her.
It wasn’t just kindness—it was a legacy.
Lala gave a soft whimper, nuzzling closer, as if to say, I understand now.
That evening, they placed the photo of Minh on the living room table and lit a small candle. Lala sat quietly beside it, tail still, eyes warm.
Because some stories are passed down not through words—but through love, loyalty, and the quiet way hearts stay connected across time.
