Micah folded his arms tightly across his chest and sank into the corner of the living room sofa with a pout. He looked every bit the sulking son, chin tilted down, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. The whole family had treated him like a criminal, as if he had committed some grave sin instead of keeping a few things to himself.
Jacob Ramsy sat opposite him, adjusting his glasses with two fingers. He cleared his throat. "Son, I heard you brought in an expert for your grandma."
Micah grunted in response.
Jacob looked at Elina, who sat on the other side of the room, helplessly. These two, mother and son, were two peas in a pod. Always reacted dramatically when it came to each other.
"What did he say?" Jacob asked gently.
Micah bit his lip and glanced at them. He was the only one in the room when Uncle Lin delivered the news… that there was no hope.
Breaking this news to them, Micah's heart clenched. It felt impossible. "He'll come here regularly for treatment sessions."
