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.