After the nurse left the room, Henry finally let go of Sheila.

"Miss Sheila, I'm sorry. That nurse is actually my classmate's mom. I didn't want my classmate to find out about my mom, so I pretended you were my mother. Are you mad at me?"

Sheila squeezed Henry's little nose, smiling. "Of course I'm not mad. But, Henry, what you did wasn't right. No matter what, you shouldn't turn your back on your own mom. Do you understand?"

Henry pouted, his voice tinged with hurt. "She never comes home. She doesn't cook for me, and now, even though I'm sick, she still doesn't care..."

Thinking about Jessica, Henry's disappointment deepened, a trace of resentment flickering in his chest.

"Henry," Timothy's voice broke the silence.

Henry looked up.

"Sheila's right," Timothy said sternly. "You're her son. You can't just give up on your mother. You're still young, but if you start pretending now, that's a habit you'll need to change."

Sheila was momentarily taken aback. Last time Henry had said something like this, Timothy hadn't been so harsh. Back then, he'd said it was normal for a child to care about appearances as he grew up. But now...

burst into tears,

one being unreasonable. She won't let Miss Sheila stay at our house, she never comes home, she doesn't cook for me,

out of her thoughts and

Grown-ups have a lot on their plates. Who knows? Maybe

glanced at Timothy. "He's still a child, Timothy. If you have to correct him, do it gently. Being this strict will only scare him

still sobbing, his breath catching

feel a pang of guilt seeing their child like

just how they are. With time, Henry would grow up and

held his

Sheila

be exhausted. Let me walk you back to your

can come back in the middle of the night. I'd rather stay here and keep an

it gets to be too much, I'll

if you need anything,

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