Overwhelmed with grief, I beat him repeatedly.
"Who was calling that you had to answer while driving? Didn't you realize there are constant bends there? It's a dangerous stretch of road!"
Patrick slapped himself violently in deep remorse. He wept bitterly and begged my forgiveness at my bedside, confessing that he should not have risked answering the phone just to compete for the position of vice president.
From then on, he loved me even more and fulfilled my every request.
Out of love for him, I accepted reality after a brief reproach.
To offer an apology and give me a sense of security, he took the initiative to undergo a vasectomy.
Later, we adopted Harry, who was just two years old, from the orphanage.
After a long time, I opened the door and found Patrick standing there, his face showing a hurt expression.
"Honey, the oatmeal is ready and has cooled down. It's just right to eat now."
He stared at me expectantly. Speechless, I walked past him into the kitchen, fetched a bowl of oatmeal, and carried it into the bedroom to feed Harry.
"Honey, can you not treat me like this? You can hit me and scold me, but please don't ignore me."