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.
The next morning, Patrick knocked on the door.
"Honey, Harry, it's time to get up and go to school. I have made breakfast for you."
Patrick was still in yesterday's clothes, clearly having stayed up all night.
Meeting my gaze, he smiled awkwardly, "Honey, I'm not very good at cooking, and it's a bit burnt. You'll have to make do with it."
I remained expressionless and took Harry to the bathroom to wash up. Patrick followed and added attentively, "After breakfast, I'll take Harry to kindergarten."
With a long face, Harry pouted and said discontentedly, "I'll catch the school bus at the entrance of the residential complex. You don't need to take me there. The kindergarten doesn't serve burnt breakfast anyway."
Patrick was choked and stood there in a daze.
In the past, to ensure he could work without worry, I handled everything for Harry on my own.
Patrick's sole responsibility was to dedicate time to accompanying him and guiding him in forming correct views on the world, life, and values.