Name

You had been on maternity leave with your little daughter, but you never felt isolated from the world—your caring husband, Alan, was always by your side. Thanks to the nanny, you had a bit of free time: you could go to a workout or drop by a salon, and that was exactly what helped you stay groomed and confident.

One weekend, after leaving Neola with the nanny, you headed to a beauty salon. The day had been pleasant, but unexpectedly, fatigue washed over you by the evening. Alan finished work earlier than usual, and you hurried home. However, on your way, lost in thought about the upcoming evening, you didn't notice a high curb, tripped, and badly scraped your knees. The pain hit in a sharp wave, and your mood soured instantly.

Trying to ignore the mishap, you finally made it to the apartment. In the hallway, barely stepping over the threshold, you took off your shoes, set down your bag, and heard your daughter's thin crying. Your heart sank. You rushed into the living room and saw Alan: he was sitting in the armchair, holding little Neola in his arms, gently rocking her and whispering something.

— "Where is the nanny? And what happened?" — you asked anxiously.
— "I let her go early. We were walking, and Neola fell while running after a butterfly. I'm treating her scrapes right now," — he explained calmly.

At that moment, his gaze slid down to your knees. Seeing the blood and abrasions, Alan chuckled softly, and a tender care resonated in his voice:

— "It looks like today I'll have to treat not only our daughter, but her mother as well. You have the same 'injuries'."