"Just got home?" Harry welcomed us on the terrace, leaning weakly in a chair. When Emil and I arrived, the man immediately sat up straight.
He was still wearing his field clothes, and even his boots hadn't been taken off. There were yellow mud stains on his boots and several spots on his pants. It seemed the path to the garden had been slightly rained on. His face looked tired.
It was five in the afternoon, even though he usually came home an hour ago.
"Yes," I replied coldly. I carried Emil past him to go inside. I noticed his gaze briefly followed us.
"Go with Papa...," the child pleaded, stopping my steps. Harry looked up, his gaze sad.
"Papa hasn't showered," I explained.
Am I cruel for stopping a child from wanting to be pampered by his father? But it hurts to see my two men tog
