Ethan had no idea what had suddenly gone wrong with Marcus, but sitting inside the doctor’s office made his chest feel unbearably tight.
The room slled faintly of antiseptic and polished wood, a sterile calm that only made his anxiety worse. The ticking of the clock on the wall seed louder than usual, each second stretching painfully.
The doctor had said Marcus was stable for now.
But he also said he needed to run several tests.
That sentence kept repeating in Ethan’s mind like an echo that refused to fade.
His heart pounded relentlessly as mories of Katherine’s voice replayed in his head.
"Your father fainted in the restaurant."
The image of Marcus collapsing in public twisted sothing deep inside him.
Ethan knew his father well enough to understand one thing—Marcus Erson never showed weakness. If he had fainted, then whatever was happening had to be serious.
Very serious.
Yet Marcus had been strangely stubborn about hiding it.
And that secrecy was now driving Ethan insane.
He leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, his fingers clasped tightly together before he forced them apart. His foot began tapping restlessly against the floor, the quiet thud filling the otherwise silent room.
Every passing minute stretched longer than the last.
Ethan kept staring at the closed door, waiting for the doctor to return.
His thoughts spiraled.
What if it’s serious?
What if Dad knew about it all along?
What if...
The door suddenly opened.
Ethan imdiately straightened in his chair.
The doctor walked in slowly, holding a file in his hand before settling behind his desk. The man had been their family doctor for years. Ethan had known him since childhood.
He had always been calm. Reassuring.
But today...
The tension in his expression made Ethan’s stomach drop.
"Is everything okay with him, doctor?" Ethan asked imdiately, his voice tight with worry.
The doctor removed his glasses for a mont, rubbing the bridge of his nose before looking up at him.
That hesitation alone was enough to make Ethan’s pulse spike.
"I don’t know if you’re aware of Marcus’s condition or not," the doctor finally said, his tone careful and solemn.
Ethan frowned.
"Condition?" he repeated, confusion mixing with dread.
The doctor slowly slid the dical file across the desk.
"But I believe it’s ti you know the truth."
Ethan stared at the file as though it were sothing dangerous.
His fingers hesitated before finally reaching out.
The doctor spoke again, his voice quieter now.
"These are your father’s reports, Ethan."
Ethan opened the file slowly.
Rows of dical terms and test results blurred together in front of his eyes.
But one word stood out clearly.
Terminal.
"Your father is suffering from a terminal condition," the doctor continued gently. "He is having very less ti Ethan"
The words struck Ethan like a physical blow.
His entire body went still.
The air in the room suddenly felt heavy, suffocating.
The doctor continued explaining the treatnt options, the risks of surgery, and the limited ti they had left.
But Ethan barely heard any of it.
The voice beca distant background noise as his mind struggled to process the truth.
Terminal.
His father was dying.
And Marcus had known.
The realization crashed over him with brutal force.
All those tis Marcus had brushed off questions about his health.
All those quiet monts where he had seed tired but refused help.
All those unexplained hospital visits.
Marcus had been hiding it.
From everyone.
From him.
Ethan slowly closed the file, his hands trembling slightly.
For the first ti in years, he felt like the ground beneath his feet had disappeared.
***
A few rooms away from the doctor’s office, Marcus sat upright in the hospital bed, frustration evident on his face.
Standing beside him was Nolan, his long-ti assistant.
Marcus ran a tired hand through his greying hair.
"He wasn’t supposed to see like that, Nolan," Marcus said sharply. "How did you let him find out?"
Nolan shifted uneasily but remained silent.
Marcus let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging.
"He wasn’t supposed to find out about this," he murmured more quietly. "Not like this."
His voice carried a weight Nolan had rarely heard before.
Marcus Erson had always been a man of control. A man who commanded respect and power.
But now he looked tired.
Not physically.
But emotionally.
"How am I supposed to face him now?" Marcus asked bitterly.
For years, he had lived with regret.
Regret for the kind of husband he had been.
Regret for the kind of father he had failed to beco.
His relationship with Ethan had been strained for so long that sotis Marcus wondered if it could ever truly heal.
And now...
Ti itself had beco his enemy.
Marcus had made peace with his fate.
He had decided long ago that he would quietly endure his illness without burdening anyone.
His only wish was simple.
To repair what he had broken.
He wanted Ethan to forgive him.
He wanted to see his son happy with the woman he loved.
And once that happened...
Marcus had planned to disappear quietly from their lives.
To wait for the end alone.
But now everything had fallen apart.
"I can’t let him see like this, Nolan," Marcus whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of emotion. "I just can’t."
The realization of his vulnerability had finally caught up with him.
For the first ti, Marcus Erson looked afraid.
Before Nolan could say anything, the door suddenly opened.
Both n turned toward it.
Ethan stood at the entrance.
He didn’t move imdiately.
His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable.
Marcus felt his heart sink.
In Ethan’s hand was the dical file.
The sa file the doctor had shown him monts ago.
The silence in the room grew thick and heavy.
Ethan slowly stepped inside.
Each step felt deliberate.
Controlled.
But the tension radiating from him was impossible to miss.
He stopped beside the bed, his gaze still lowered to the file in his hands.
Marcus opened his mouth, unsure what to say.
But before he could speak—
Ethan finally broke the silence.
"Can I have a mont with you, Dad?"
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
He still hadn’t looked up.
But the tight grip he had on the file told Marcus everything he needed to know.
The truth had finally reached his son.
The room fell into a heavy silence after Ethan spoke.
For a mont, no one moved.
Marcus stared at his son, his chest tightening as he watched Ethan stand there with his head lowered, the dical file still clutched tightly in his hand.
Nolan sensed the tension imdiately.
This was not a conversation ant for anyone else.
Without saying a word, he cleared his throat softly.
"I’ll... give you two so ti," Nolan said quietly.
Marcus didn’t stop him.
Ethan didn’t react either.
The only sound in the room was the soft click of the door as Nolan stepped out, leaving father and son alone.
The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
Ethan slowly walked toward the chair beside the hospital bed and sat down. The movent was calm, almost controlled, but the stiffness in his shoulders betrayed the storm raging inside him.
The file remained in his hands.
He stared at it as though the words inside had burned themselves into his mind.
Marcus swallowed hard.
"Ethan—"
"Why?"
The single word stopped Marcus imdiately.
Ethan still hadn’t looked up.
His voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made Marcus’s chest tighten.
"Why didn’t you tell ?" Ethan asked.
Marcus opened his mouth, but no words ca out.
Ethan slowly flipped the file open, his eyes still fixed on the papers.
"Terminal condition," he read softly.
The clinical words sounded even colder spoken aloud.
"You’ve known about this for how long?"
Marcus hesitated.
"...A few months."
Ethan let out a small breath.
Not anger.
Not disbelief.
Just a quiet, tired breath.
"And in those months," Ethan continued calmly, "you thought it was better to hide it from ."
Marcus’s fingers tightened around the bedsheet.
"I didn’t want to burden you," he said quietly.
That made Ethan finally laugh.
But it wasn’t a real laugh.
It was hollow.
"You didn’t want to burden ," Ethan repeated.
He closed the file slowly.
"Was this why you fainted that day in the restaurant and then chose to erase every detail that could reach , Dad?"
Marcus looked away, sha creeping across his face.
"I was handling it."
"Handling it?" Ethan’s voice remained eerily calm. "By pretending you weren’t dying?"
The word hung in the air like a blade.
Marcus flinched.
Silence filled the room again.
Ethan leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, the file dangling loosely from his hand.
"You were planning to just... disappear, weren’t you?"
Marcus’s heart skipped.
Ethan continued speaking, still refusing to look at him.
"You were waiting for to forgive you first," Ethan said quietly. "Then you’d go off sowhere and die alone."
Marcus felt his throat tighten.
"That wasn’t—"
"It was," Ethan interrupted softly.
Another silence followed.
This one heavier.
More painful.
Marcus’s vision began to blur.
"I didn’t deserve to ask anything from you," Marcus said hoarsely.
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