Madam's sister was somewhat frightened by Francis Johnson's demeanor, not daring to cry, she half-raised her head, staring at him blankly, occasionally choking up, seemingly at a loss.
Francis Johnson sat down beside her, stretched out his long legs, and did not speak again.
Madam's sister had no choice but to curl up, leaning on the bench, her thin figure desolate and fearful.
Lawrence Winters was crying uncontrollably beside her.
Kenneth Osborne couldn't bear to watch anymore and pulled Lawrence Winters away, and the two of them stood by the window not far away.
Outside the window were blue skies and white clouds, crisp autumn air, maple leaves in full swing, shades of red spreading all over the city.
But inside the window, there was a cloud of sorrow, the atmosphere oppressively heavy.
At this moment, a team of nurses suddenly came out of the elevator pushing a surgical cart, rushing quickly towards Joyce Shaw's room.
