Thirty-two years ago.
SYND Private Hospital.
Citadel City.
The old patriarch looked at Timothy for a long time.
His breathing remained weak.
Every few words seemed to cost him more strength than the last.
Still, the moment Timothy sat beside him, something in the old man's face softened.
"How unfortunate I am..."
Timothy looked toward him.
His father gave a faint smile.
"I couldn't even spend enough time with my own son."
"Father..."
"You've grown so much."
His tired eyes moved across Timothy's face.
For a moment, he looked as though he were trying to find the little boy he remembered somewhere inside the man sitting beside him.
Then the smile disappeared.
"I'm sorry."
Timothy became quiet.
His father continued,
"I couldn't do anything to save your wife."
Timothy's eyes lowered.
The room seemed colder at those words.
"I wasn't there when you needed a family."
The old man's voice trembled.
"And when you needed your father..."
He swallowed painfully.
