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...
Suddenly, Henry burst into tears, feeling utterly wronged.
"It's not fair! She's the one being unreasonable. She won't let Miss Sheila stay at our house, she never comes home, she doesn't cook for me, and even now that I'm sick, she still doesn't care about me. And now Dad's mad at me too..."
Sheila snapped out of her thoughts and hurried to comfort him.
"Don't cry, Henry. Maybe your mom's just busy right now. Grown-ups have a lot on their plates. Who knows? Maybe you'll see her tomorrow."
When Henry had calmed down a little, Sheila 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 and make things worse."
Henry was still sobbing, his breath catching in his chest.
What parent wouldn't feel a pang of guilt seeing their child like this?
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