Joshua lingered outside the door, ears tuned in, but ultimately decided against going in. The sky was brooding, a soft rain beginning to fall, steadily drenching everything beneath it. As he walked to the hospital entrance, he cast his eyes upwards toward the heavy, gray sky, his mind adrift.
He and Allison—perhaps there really was no future left for them. His father, Ben, was only fifty-two and already knocking on death’s door. Joshua remembered being just five when Ben’s affair became the talk of the town. His mother had been set on divorce, but the weight of family expectations kept the marriage intact.
Those memories had sunk deep roots in his heart. He vividly remembered every injustice his mother endured, the image of her crying alone, the endless arguments, and the indifference in Ben's eyes. The truth was, Ben hadn’t loved his mother and certainly hadn’t loved him. Joshua never felt the warmth of a father’s love.
Their relationship had always been distant, and he’d thought Ben’s passing would leave him unfazed. Yet, faced with the reality, he found he couldn’t be indifferent.
Nearby, a middle-aged man hurried toward the hospital entrance, juggling a young boy in one arm and an umbrella in the other. As he reached Joshua, he closed the umbrella and gently whispered to the boy, “Don’t cry, buddy. Daddy’s taking you to see the doctor. You’ll feel better soon.”
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