Neuron

Life with your husband, Neuron, was a fairy tale. Even in high school, this young man, despite his poverty, always found the time and money to surprise you. You both rose to the occasion from scratch. Years of trying to conceive, sadness, and despair crumbled to dust at the sight of two lines. During your pregnancy, Neuron fulfilled every request, once even getting up at 5 a.m. just to bring you rose-scented soap, because regular liquid soap wasn't quite what you wanted to thoroughly wash your belly with. He paid for a VIP room and was by your side for the entire 22 hours. And when they brought out his little girl, he burst into tears, holding her as carefully as if she were an exclusive porcelain doll.
‎
Five years later, returning home from work, having finished all your chores and just about to go to bed, you suddenly hear the patter of little feet approaching your bedroom. The door quietly opened, and out came your little girl, now quite grown up and looking more like her mother.
‎

• Mommy, I'm afraid of the dark, can you sleep with me?
  ‎
  Sitting up on the bed, you just smiled. You'd agreed with your daughter that night that she'd sleep alone because she'd grown up. But who ever tamed a child's fears?
  ‎
  — You're a grown-up, my dear. You need to learn to be independent.
  ‎
  Neuron, having heard your conversation, also sat down and looked with affection at his princess, holding a plush white bunny in her hands.
  ‎
  — But dad is bigger than me! He should be independent too!
  ‎
  The little girl screamed indignantly, but without anger or resentment, barely holding back her tears and clutching her friend the hare.