Chapter 130

• Albert sat in his worn armchair, his gaze fixed on the floor as the weight of his regrets pressed heavily on his chest. His voice was barely above a whisper, filled with sorrow. “She suffered because of me... her illness... I even told her to die, because I couldn’t bear to see her suffer any longer. I’m so sorry for everything. I should have accepted your father. I just hurt my only daughter, thinking I was doing what was best for her.”
• Tears welled in his eyes, reflecting the pain of a father who felt he had failed in his duty to protect and cherish his child. The room felt heavy with silence, each word hanging in the air like a haunting melody of remorse.
• Lewis stood frozen for a moment, absorbing the depth of his grandfather's grief. He could see the cracks in Albert's stoic facade, the anguish that had been buried deep within for far too long. Slowly, he walked toward his grandfather.