Chasing My Pregnant Wife by Night Rvelations

The entire way home, Theodore didn't say a word to Jake. The father and son remained unusually silent until they arrived back at the house.

"Jake, how many times have you caused trouble at school now?" Theodore's voice was extremely cold as he sat on the couch. His gaze was similarly icy.

"He insultedfirst," Jake muttered, head lowered.

"And what about the previous times? How about when you were the one bullying others?" Theodore interrogated him.

He knew his son was no saint. It wasn't always others picking on Jake first-there were times when he was the instigator.

If someone else bullied Jake first, Theodore would protect his son without hesitation. But if Jake was the one provoking others, that was an entirely different matter.

Most of the time, Theodore sent his assistant to handle such issues. But as these incidents piled up, growing more frequent and severe, he realized that if he didn't step in personally, he had no idea what kind of person his son might grow into.

"But this time, he started it," Jake stubbornly insisted.

"I'm not talking about this time. I'm talking about the previous incidents-when you put a fake snake in someone's bag, or when you threw someone's textbook into the drain. They didn't do anything to provoke you." Every tsomething like this happened, Theodore would discipline Jake, but the boy never seemed to learn.

"They did provoke me! They insulted me!" Jake insisted still.

"What did they say?" "They just insulted me!" Jake fumed. "I hate them!" He then turned and ran away.

Theodore grabbed Jake back forcefully.

"Jake, I've told you before-you are not to bully others. Did you think I was just talking for the sake of it? If you dare to do this again, then next time, when someone comes looking for you to beat you up and insult you, don't ccrying tofor help. I'll hand you over to them to teach you a lesson." "Fine! I don't need your help! I don't care!" Jake violently shook off Theodore's grip and ran off.

"Jake." Theodore stood up, intending to go after him, but the boy had already thrown himself into the butler's arms.

The butler picked him up and gently wiped his tears.

Theodore sighed and turned to go upstairs, each step feeling unbearably heavy.

He had thought he would be a good father. Even Rosalie had once believed so, but the truth proved otherwise.

Seeing his son turn out this way, Theodore knew he bore much of the responsibility. But what else could he do? He had scolded Jake, disciplined him, even resorted to punishing him with a slap on the hand or a spanking. Perhaps they were simply at odds with each other as father and son.

'Rosalie, if only you were here. I wonder how you are now.' Theodore returned to his room alone, picking up the letter Rosalie had written years ago and reading it over and over again. That night, Theodore entered Jake's room. The boy saw him and immediately hid under the covers, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

Jake remained silent under the blanket, acting as if he couldn't hear anything, his hands covering his ears.

Theodore knew he was listening and continued, "If your mother knew how you've been behaving, she would be heartbroken." "I don't have a mother!" At the mention of his mother, Jake suddenly poked his head out from under the covers. His voice carried resentment toward those two words.

His young eyes gleamed with an anger and viciousness far beyond his age.

Theodore's fists clenched tightly, and an unbearable pain shot through his chest.

"You do have a mother. She loves you. She almost lost her life giving birth to you." "Then where is she?" Jake demanded.

Theodore was caught off guard by the question. This was exactly why he avoided bringing up the vel subject-because he had no way of explaining the cruel truth to his son.

All he could tell Jake was that his mother loved him very much but had to leave due to unavoidable circumstances, and that she would cback one day.

Yet, five years had passed. Rosalie still hadn't returned.

Even Theodore himself had lost confidence in his own words.

"She doesn't love me. I don't want her love." Jake pulled the covers over his head again, his body trembling beneath them.

At that moment, Theodore didn't know what else to say. A heavy weight of guilt and helplessness pressed against his heart.

"Jake, I want you to understand something. Whether or not your mother comes back, you still have me. Her absence is not an excuse for you to misbehave. If you choose to do bad things, then that's entirely my fault. It means I failed to raise you properly and am a bad father." With a deep sigh, Theodore turned and left the room.

After he left, Jake peeked out from under the blanket. In his small hands, he clutched a crumpled drawing that he had hidden beneath the covers.

Though the lines were crooked and unsteady, it was clear what he had drawn-a family of three.

On the left was his father, on the right was his mother, and in the middle was himself.

This was a picture Jake had secretly drawn. He didn't want his father to see it.

"Mom, where are you? Did you abandon us?" Tears welled up in Jake's eyes as he gently traced the figure of his mother on the paper with his fingers.

His memories of her had already begun to fade. He could no longer remember what she looked like.