Chapter 141
Frank Harris had been bedridden for seven straight days.
The old man's hands trembled as he carried the medicine bowl into the room. The figure on the bed looked deathly pale, his breathing so faint it was almost inaudible.
"Son..." The old man's voice cracked.
Outside the door, the old woman wiped her tears. She knew in her heart—this time, her son might not make it.
"Mom, what about Frank's wedding?" Frank's brother, John Harris, rubbed his hands nervously as he approached.
The old woman glared at him. "How dare you ask? If it weren't for you—"
"Grandma!" Frank's son, young Frank, burst into the room. "Maya's family is demanding the dowry! They said they'll call off the engagement if we don't pay up!"
The old man slammed the medicine bowl onto the table. "Let them call it off!"
"Dad!"
"Grandpa!"
Father and son protested in unison.
The old woman slapped her thigh. "Enough! We'll sell the pigs tomorrow to gather the dowry money!"
Young Frank stomped his foot in frustration. "What about the appliances? I can't go empty-handed!"
John's eyes gleamed with a sudden idea. "Frank's room has—"
"Shut your mouth!" The old man grabbed a broom and swung it at him. "You heartless wretch! Your brother is on his deathbed, and you're still eyeing his belongings!"
John ducked and scurried away. Seeing this, young Frank dropped to his knees before his grandmother. "Grandma, you love me the most. Uncle's room—"
The old woman shuddered.
Late that night, when the house was silent, she crept into Frank's room.
"Son..." Her voice was weak. "I need to discuss something with you..."
Suddenly, the man on the bed coughed violently, spitting blood onto his pillow.
The old woman stumbled back in fright.
"Mother..." Frank's voice was barely a whisper. "I... won't make it..."
Tears streamed down the old woman's face.
"Move me... out of here..." Frank gave a bitter smile. "Don't... let me... delay... young Frank..."
Her legs gave way, and she collapsed to her knees beside the bed.