I felt cold all over and tensed up. My heart seemed to be weighed down by a massive rock. I struggled to breathe as if I might suffocate at any second.

With tears in his eyes, Harry looked up at me and asked with sobs, "Mommy, does Daddy no longer love us? Why did he embrace Ms. Parker?"

"Don't cry, Mommy. I will always love you. I won't take piano lessons again."

Maybe because Harry was raised in an orphanage, despite all my efforts to shower him with affection and warmth, caution remained ingrained in his bones.

I couldn't bear seeing him like this. My heart ached intensely with pain.

After wiping away my tears, I hugged him, forced a smile, and pressed my forehead against his.

"I will always love you, too."

Harry experienced a stomachache during his nap, and the doctor advised him to consume a light diet.

After settling him down, I went to the kitchen to cook oatmeal.

Patrick opened the door and stood at the kitchen door, feeling depressed.

"Honey, I fired Rachel. I'm sorry. Can you forgive me once, just once?"

My hands shook, causing me to spill most of the oatmeal from the pot.

After calming down, we fell into a long silence.

There was a family of three residing in the apartment. Once filled with laughter until today, it was now eerily quiet.

My mind went blank. I eagerly wished everything that had just happened was an absurd dream.

Unfortunately, it was not a dream.

Struggling to contain the overwhelming emotions in my heart, I put the oatmeal back into the pot.

Things had come to this, and I needed some time to weigh the pros and cons between forgiving him and divorcing him.

I stepped out of the kitchen in a daze without even casting a glance at Patrick.

The moment he grabbed my arm, I reflexively retched. Then, I pivoted around and rushed into the bathroom.

I lay on the toilet, vomiting nonstop until my stomach started to cramp and ache.

I rolled over and sat on the floor, resting my forehead against the cold toilet bowl. Tears instantly blurred my eyes, and I bit my fist and wept silently.

I knew Patrick had an ex-girlfriend that he could never get over.

A few years ago, because he couldn't provide the life she desired, she decisively left with a wealthy businessman.

He was depressed for a long time.

It was self-evident that the woman was Rachel.

Patrick's parents once joked that he was ignorant and reckless in his youth.

Rachel, whom he couldn't bring himself to talk about, was the reason behind his newfound steadiness, gentleness, and patience.

After being a little jealous, I was still grateful to her inwardly for training him so well.

​So, within two months of our relationship, I willingly married him.​

I soon became pregnant. He was so excited that he burst into tears and vowed to be good to me all his life.

When I was seven months pregnant, Patrick drove me to the prenatal check-up. However, after receiving a phone call, he lost focus and crashed into the green belt, resulting in a miscarriage and permanent damage to my uterus that left me unable to conceive for the rest of my life.​

Overwhelmed with grief, I beat him repeatedly.

"Who was calling that you had to answer while driving? Didn't you realize there are constant bends there? It's a dangerous stretch of road!"

​Patrick slapped himself violently in deep remorse. He wept bitterly and begged my forgiveness at my bedside, confessing that he should not have risked answering the phone just to compete for the position of vice president.

From then on, he loved me even more and fulfilled my every request.

Out of love for him, I accepted reality after a brief reproach.

To offer an apology and give me a sense of security, he took the initiative to undergo a vasectomy.

Later, we adopted Harry, who was just two years old, from the orphanage.

After a long time, I opened the door and found Patrick standing there, his face showing a hurt expression.

"Honey, the oatmeal is ready and has cooled down. It's just right to eat now."

He stared at me expectantly. Speechless, I walked past him into the kitchen, fetched a bowl of oatmeal, and carried it into the bedroom to feed Harry.

"Honey, can you not treat me like this? You can hit me and scold me, but please don't ignore me."

"Patrick, I always believed you were responsible, but so far, you only asked for my forgiveness. Do you have anything else to say?"

"Yes. I'll explain everything to you. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

I sneered, "I'm not interested in your affair."

Despite countless doubts in my mind, I was reluctant to give him a chance to explain.

Explanation would mean forgiveness, but I couldn't forgive him.

He could do whatever he pleased. Why couldn't I?

Patrick froze in place, sighing dejectedly.

Harry put his arms around my neck and leaned on my shoulder.

"Mommy, the teacher told us that if someone is aware of his mistakes and corrects them, he is still a good boy. What about Daddy? Is he still a good dad?"

I rubbed Harry's head, forced a smile, and said, "Maybe he will be a good dad, but he will no longer be a good husband. Harry, you are too young to understand these things. You just need to know that we will always love you."

It was already nine o'clock in the evening when I lulled him to sleep. Patrick tried turning the doorknob multiple times, but the door remained closed because I had locked it from the inside.

His footsteps gradually faded away. Exhausted, I lay deflated on the bed, feeling as though all my strength had been drained from me, unwilling to move.

​It was destined to be a sleepless night.​