The doctor removed his surgical mask, his face filled with regret. “The elderly lady already had a heart condition, and with the added shock, we did our best…”
David heard that and stood frozen in place, not daring to ask the next question.
Lysander’s body jolted violently, his handsome face taut and stern, his eyes narrowing.
Thalassa, who was sitting on the ground, her throat still aching, heard the doctor’s words. Her rapid breathing stopped abruptly, her mind going blank as she stared at the doctor with wide eyes.
What did he mean by “did our best”?
Did it mean that Lysander’s grandmother had passed away?
Feeling the weight of the atmosphere, the doctor somberly advised, “Prepare for the funeral. Let the old lady rest in peace.”
After saying that, the doctor left.
Thalassa held her breath for a few seconds before mechanically turning to look at Lysander. His tall figure was rigid, a melancholic and dark aura radiating around him.
His hand, hanging by his side, clenched tightly into a fist, veins bulging on the back of his hand, his eyes filled with confusion, pain, restraint, and fury.
Thalassa’s breath trembled, her heart feeling as if it was being torn apart. She was lost, in pain, and panicked.
A nurse wheeled out a medical bed. Grandma Sybil lay on it, her eyes tightly shut. Her wise, artistic face was then devoid of any color.
Lysander took heavy steps towards her, his deep eyes fixed on Grandma Sybil, his cheeks stiff with suppressed pain.
“Sybil!” Zephyr rushed into the emergency room corridor, his hurried steps taking him to the bedside.
He fell to the side of the bed, his aged face trembling as he looked at Sybil lying on the bed. “Sybil, what’s wrong? It’s me. Open your eyes and look at
Zephyr wasn’t at home that day. As soon as he heard that Sybil had been rushed to the hospital, he rushed back as fast as he could.
Lysander’s voice broke through the silence, “Grandpa, Grandma is gone…”
“What?” Zephyr’s pupils dilated in shock, unable to accept the horrifying reality. His cloudy eyes quickly filled with tears as he reached out to check Sybil’s breath.
His hand trembled. The short distance felt like an eternity as his heavy hand reached Sybil’s nose. There was no breath.
All strength left Zephyr’s body, and he stumbled backward.
“Grandpa!” Lysander’s long arms caught his grandfather, providing him with support.
Zephyr managed to steady himself, his breath rapid, his cheeks trembling. He looked at Sybil’s peaceful face, his aged hand gripping hers, trembling ceaselessly. “Sybil, we’ve been married for 70 years, and our anniversary is just around the corner. How could you leave.”
Zephyr’s tall figure suddenly seemed stooped and frail.
Lysander stood behind Zephyr, his arms around his shoulders and waist, providing support to prevent him from collapsing under the weight of his grief.
His eyes were bloodshot, his face reflecting the deep pain of losing a loved one.
Thalassa felt suffocated, at a loss, and filled with guilt as she watched the scene unfold. Her mind was a blank slate, her lips trembling uncontrollably.
She couldn’t believe it. Just two days before, Grandma Sybil, who was always mediating for Lysander, was fine. How could she be gone so suddenly?
Grandma Sybil’s body didn’t stay in the emergency corridor for long. The nurses wheeled her away, with Lysander and Zephyr accompanying her.
Zephyr was so grief-stricken that he could barely stand, completely dependent on Lysander’s support.