30 Days Till I Divorce My Husband novel Chapter 351

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Don’t let his age fool you; at just over two years old, Isaac might seem like he could handle anything. But me? Even at 30, I can’t handle spicy food. Not even a little.

Gently holding Isaac’s chin, I took a closer look at his face. His lips were swollen, and there was a patch of red on his right eyelid.

No need to guess – he must’ve rubbed his eyes after touching something spicy. That’s why he was crying so hard.

Looking at the scar on Isaac’s chin, then at his swollen lips and eyelid, my heart ached. He was perfectly fine when we left this morning, and now, he looked like he’d been through a battle.

After checking on Isaac, I quickly scooped him off the floor, comforting him as we headed to the bathroom. “Don’t be scared, buddy. Daddy’s here. We’ll rinse your mouth with some water, and a cold compress on your eyes will help with the sting,” I said.

Hearing my voice, Isaac’s crying intensified, his tears growing larger.

But now, his tears weren’t out of anger or impatience; they were filled with hurt.

In the bathroom, I held Isaac in one arm, supporting his chin with my palm, and had him close his eyes. Then, I gently rinsed his eyes and mouth until his sobs slowly subsided. Flipping him over to cradle him in my arm, I used a cold washcloth to dab at his eyes repeatedly.

It wasn’t until Isaac said his eyes didn’t hurt anymore that I picked him up and applied some cream to his face.

Laying motionless on my shoulder, Isaac seemed to have lost all his energy, his body twitching from residual sobs, his arms clinging to me, refusing to let go.

Cole watched me handle the situation with such calmness, feeling a sense of admiration for how much more capable of a father I was compared to him back in the day; my attention to detail and care for others was evident.

And Isaac, he truly adored and depended on me.

After walking around the living room with Isaac in my arms and comforting him for a while, the once inconsolable Isaac finally spoke up, “Daddy, my mouth hurts.”

I knew his mouth was still feeling the burn; he just couldn’t distinguish between the pain and the spiciness.

Holding Isaac in my left arm and patting his back with my right, I walked into the kitchen, where the maid had just finished squeezing some fresh orange juice – something I had asked them to do.

Pouring the filtered juice into Isaac’s sippy cup, I handed it to him, and he drank trustingly.

The cool, sweet juice immediately made him forget about the spiciness.

Yet, he still felt wronged and clung to me, refusing to leave my embrace.

I indulged him, holding him from the moment I got back until the family doctor came to check on him, even during the examination.

The doctor said everything was okay, which finally put my mind at ease.

After the doctor left, and Isaac had drunk most of his juice, I asked if his mouth still hurt. He shook his head, indicating it didn’t.

Then, I took him to the kitchen and slowly explained, “Buddy, it’s okay to look for something to eat when we’re hungry, but first, we need to know what things we can eat and what we can’t, okay?”

Isaac nodded his head, looking a bit sad, as I pointed out, “These are spices, and we can’t eat them. And over here, we have raw vegetables, which are also off-limits.”

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