FakeNovelChapter 47
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. | didn't want my classmate to find out about
my mom, so | 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.
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"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 tHenry 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
attoo..."
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?
Timothy realized he might have been too harsh. Kids care about saving face-it's just how they are. With time,
Henry would grow up and cto appreciate everything his mother had done for him.
So Timothy held his tongue.
Once Henry fell asleep, Sheila carefully tucked him into bed.
Timothy whispered, "You must be exhausted. Letwalk you back to your room so you can rest."
"Timothy, when a child has a fever, it can cback in the middle of the night. I'd rather stay here and keep an
eye on Henry."
"You're injured too. I'll look after him. If it gets to be too much, I'll call you."
"Alright. But if you need anything, just letknow."
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Timothy walked Sheila back to her room, then returned to Henry's bedside.
In the early hours of the morning, Henry's fever flared up again. He was burning hot, murmuring incoherently in
his sleep.
Timothy had no choice but to call the doctor.
Since Henry had only recently had fever medicine, and this was a recurring fever, the doctor recommended
trying to bring it down with cool compresses.
Timothy soaked two towels in cold water, using them alternately to lower Henry's temperature. He used a dry
towel to wipe away the sweat that kept breaking out over Henry's skin.
He'd never done this before and found himself fumbling awkwardly from one step to the next.
Henry, lost in feverish dreams, started calling out for his mom.
The mention of Jessica made Timothy's expression darken. Henry was sick, and she was nowhere to be found.
There was a twhen even the slightest headache or sniffle would have her in a panic.
Frustrated, Timothy stepped out of the room, pulled out his phone, and dialed Jessica's number.
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