As Maven and his father enjoyed the evening breeze and the beauty of the universe, Maven's phone rang.
"Hello?" Maven answered.
A lady's voice cried out urgently, "Maven, please come with your motorbike immediately! Old man Shem collapsed—he's unconscious, he's dying!"
Maven's heart sank at the desperation in her tone. Without hesitation, he turned to his father.
"Dad, please wait for me," Maven assured, then sped off on his bike.
"This is very bad," Maven muttered as he found Old Man Shem lying on the ground, motionless. He quickly lifted him onto the bike and rushed to the city hospital's emergency room.
Maven waited anxiously in the corridor, wondering if they had made it in time. At last, the doctor emerged with a reassuring smile.
"He's stable," the doctor said. "Thanks to your quick thinking and timely arrival, we were able to save him."
Maven exhaled deeply, relief washing over him. But before he could fully celebrate, a nurse called him over.
"Maven, you need to sign these documents, purchase medication, and arrange for blood," the doctor explained. Shortly after, they presented him with a bill of twenty thousand dollars.
"I don't have that kind of money! Let's try to contact his relatives for support," Maven argued.
The doctor frowned. "Did you even read the document you signed?"
Confused, Maven reopened the papers. His eyes widened in shock.
"Old man Shem has no family," he cried out.
With no other choice, Maven withdrew all his savings and borrowed money to settle the debt. Just as he prepared to take Old Man Shem home, the doctor handed him a devastating letter.
It revealed that Old Man Shem had only ninety days to live and required a specific drug costing one thousand dollars weekly to ease his pain. The revelation weakened Maven to his very marrow.
Now Shem was living with Maven and his father, another heavy burden laid on his shoulders. Maven wrestled with the numbers in his mind:
"One thousand weekly for Shem's medication, four hundred for my dad, plus food… How can I manage this?"
Yet he encouraged himself: "I need to work harder. At the very least, I must ensure Mr. Shem leaves this world in peace and without pain."
The next day, while work was in progress, Mr. Mark called Maven aside.
"I've secured a new opportunity as foreman at Clifton Homes," Mr. Mark told him. "They build high-rise buildings, and the pay is very good."
Without a second thought, Maven accepted.
"Two thousand dollars! That's double my old salary. This new job will bring some relief," he said with hope.
But the long forty-five-minute commute caused his evening business to decline. At the same time, his responsibilities at home increased—caring for both his sick father and Old Man Shem. Despite the emotional toll, Shem remained cheerful, often singing about finally joining his lost family.
As the weeks passed, Shem's health worsened. Each day, he would sing softly:
"Finally, I am going to my family. Happiness is outside this world. Finally, I can join thee…"
He toasted with wine and removed one stone from a jar of ninety, counting down the days left to him.
One weekend, Shem asked Maven to take him to the beach, knowing it might be his last. Maven agreed, and they spent the day watching the waves. Shem shared his story—how he had lost his entire family in a plane crash thirty years ago.
Before leaving, he handed Maven a necklace with an old key.
"My son, if I'm not alive tomorrow, go to the post office. Look for box sixty-nine. Inside, you'll find another key for box fourteen. Whatever you find there is yours."
The next morning, Maven woke to find that Old Man Shem had passed away peacefully. He and his father wept together, mourning the loss. Mr. Roland gently tapped Maven's shoulder, sharing in his sorrow.
As they mourned, Maven reflected on the lessons Shem had unknowingly taught him—compassion, empathy, and the beauty of human connection. Despite the struggles, he realized true wealth wasn't in savings but in relationships and shared experiences.
With a heavy heart, Maven followed Shem's instructions. At the post office, he slid the key into box sixty-nine. But the lock jammed—it wouldn't open.
"Maybe Shem was just joking," Maven thought, smiling faintly as memories of their laughter returned.
He returned home to prepare Shem's body for burial. Though grief weighed heavily on him, Maven found comfort in knowing he had cared for the old man to the very end.
Now it was time to say goodbye.