My late father, a world-traveling ship’s doctor, was my best friend. After his passing, I decided to read his journals, something he’d always kept private. What I uncovered was a shocking secret about my own life.

In the silence of his study, I opened the journal that had always been off-limits. It detailed his travels and medical cases, but then, a startling revelation: he had a daughter with a woman named Helena. This daughter, whom I’d never met, was living with the regret that my father never found her before he died.

“I’ll find her for you, Dad,” I promised, vowing to track down my unknown sister.

The next morning, I set out on a road trip to find her. As I drove, I talked to my father, reminiscing about our past journeys and his advice about life’s unpredictable paths. Eventually, I reached a modest house and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

A young woman named Isabella answered. The resemblance to our father was uncanny. She was guarded and hurt, accusing me of living a life of privilege while she and her mother had struggled alone. Her mother’s death and the struggles Isabella faced were palpable.

“I’m sorry for everything,” I said. “I recently lost him too. He wanted to find you.”

Her bitterness was deep, and before I could say more, she slammed the door. Moments later, I heard a loud thud from inside. Panic-stricken, I called 911, desperate for help.

At the hospital, doctors informed me Isabella was critically ill and needed a donor. Despite the risks, I volunteered to be tested. When I learned I was a perfect match, I agreed to the procedure, determined to help her.

The surgery went well, and both of us began to recover. Isabella was shocked to learn I had saved her life. Her initial resentment gave way to gratitude and regret.

“I’m sorry for everything, Elena,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

I took her hand. “You don’t need to. We can start fresh and heal together.”

“Will you stay?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied. “Let’s start over.”