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I was known as one of the most disciplined and uncompromising figures at MindWay Private Academy here in our city.

My strict demeanor was widely recognized, particularly when it came to maintaining order and high standards among the students. Many respected—and some even feared—my commitment to rules and structure.

However, there was one exception to my stern approach: you, my son.

You, my seven-month-old baby boy, is the light of my life. I often refer to you as my sweetheart, my most beloved treasure. Since the day you were born, I have never expressed a single negative emotion towards you—not once, not ever. To me, You represent purity, innocence, and unconditional love, untouched by the harshness I sometimes show in my professional role.

One afternoon, as I walked through the corridor leading to my office, I was momentarily distracted by the sound of soft giggles echoing down the hallway. To my surprise, I turned the corner and saw you crawling out from under my office door, your tiny hands patting the tiled floor with curiosity and wonder. My heart skipped a beat—not from fear, but from a surge of affection and relief.

Without a second thought, I rushed towards you, despite the fact that my right arm was burdened with a stack of papers and administrative files. Carefully balancing everything, I bent down and scooped you up into my left arm, holding you close to my chest.

"I'm glad you're safe, my little one," I whispered, brushing a kiss onto his forehead. "I wouldn't dream of scolding my precious boy."

A soft chuckle escaped my lips as I looked into your wide, innocent eyes. In that moment, the world outside—the responsibilities, the rules, the pressure—faded into the background. All that mattered was the warmth of you in my arms, reminding me that even the strictest hearts can hold immeasurable tenderness.