Chapter 490: Could I Trouble You to Take a Picture for Us

Chapter 490: Chapter 490: Could I Trouble You to Take a Picture for Us

As Zoe Sawyer and the others discussed Mr. Miller’s condition, a faint voice called out from inside the room.

Everyone outside the room instantly fell silent, their attention fixed on the father and son inside.

Hearing his son’s call, Old Man Miller quickly answered, "Yes, yes," and leaned in close. "I’m here, I’m here. Dad’s here. Don’t be afraid."

Mr. Miller struggled to open his eyes. When he saw the person he had longed for day and night standing before his bed, his voice filled with a profound sense of sorrow.

He apologized, saying he couldn’t hold on any longer, that he hadn’t earned enough money to treat his older brother’s illness.

He said he was useless, that even at a time like this, he was still making his father spend money to come see him.

With a trembling hand, Old Man Miller stroked his son’s hair. "No, you’re the best. If it weren’t for you, your brother wouldn’t have made it this long."

Then, Old Man Miller started telling his son all about what he’d been up to—how the chickens and ducks were doing back home, and how much the police had helped him on his way over.

The conversation was simple and mundane. Mr. Miller lay listening with a smile on his lips, as if the pain in his body had lessened a great deal in that moment.

As they spoke, Mr. Miller struggled to sit up in bed, and he seemed to have much more energy. "Dad, I want to eat your stir-fry. All I’ve had here is steamed buns and bread. I’ve had more than enough. I’m really craving your cooking."

The young nurse at the door felt her eyes redden. ’This is a terminal rally,’ she thought.

Old Man Miller thought of this too. His voice instantly choked up, and he nodded repeatedly. "Okay, I’ll go cook for you. You just wait."

With that, Old Man Miller didn’t spare a thought for anything else. He quickly stood up and staggered toward the door of the room.

Before he could even speak, the young nurse nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, you can cook in the hospital cafeteria. Sir, please don’t worry. I’ll take you there right now."

Sean Hughes and his teammates were worried, so they followed along.

"This hospital has a hospice care kitchen, provided specifically for family members in situations like Old Man Miller’s.

"It’s for special circumstances, so it’s staffed twenty-four hours a day and always stocked with ingredients. It’s all so that patients can have one last meal before they pass." Heath Hale couldn’t help but sigh as he read the information he’d looked up on his phone.

For a parent to bury their child... And with another son at home who could go at any time... Old Man Miller had some hard days ahead of him.

However, before Zoe Sawyer could speak, Mr. Miller’s voice came from inside the room. "Could I trouble you to come in for a moment?"

Zoe Sawyer and Heath Hale glanced at each other, then walked in, wanting to see if Mr. Miller needed their help with anything.

"I heard from my dad that you rushed him to the hospital using a shortcut. Thank you so much.

"Otherwise, I definitely wouldn’t have held on until he got here." Mr. Miller looked at Zoe Sawyer and Heath Hale, who were standing nearby, his voice filled with gratitude.

He had taken the train to save money, so he knew full well how long it took to get here from the station and how much longer he could last.

Being able to see his father one last time was definitely thanks to these officers.

"It’s our duty to serve the people. It’s what we do," Zoe Sawyer said, shaking her head. "Please don’t give it another thought."

Mr. Miller shook his head. "I called you in because I wanted to ask you for two favors. Don’t worry, it won’t cost you any money!"

Heath Hale waved his hand dismissively. "That’s not important. What do you need us to do?"

Mr. Miller gave Zoe Sawyer and Heath Hale a somewhat forced smile. "My dad always said that a person has to live up to their own conscience and to society.

"I don’t have much education, so I can’t make any big contributions. Now that I’m about to die, I want to sign the cornea donation agreement. I’d like to ask you to be witnesses. Would that be okay?

"Also, after I die, I’ll have to trouble you to take my dad back home. My brother’s condition is more serious, and he can’t be left alone."

The more important reason was that if his older brother found out what happened to him, the shock might worsen his condition.

A flicker of surprise flashed in Zoe Sawyer’s eyes. She had considered many possibilities, but she had never imagined that Mr. Miller’s first request would be for them to act as witnesses.

"That’s no problem. We can even record it for you if you’d like," Heath Hale said.

Just being a witness wasn’t a big deal, so Heath Hale agreed without hesitation.

However, Heath Hale seemed to think of something. After a moment of consideration, he spoke up. "But, Mr. Miller, given your condition, the corneas you wish to donate might also be diseased."

In that case, they wouldn’t be very usable.

Mr. Miller smiled. "I know. I’ll sign it first. It would be great if they can be used. If not, then I’ll just be a ’silent teacher’.

"I couldn’t afford to go to school when I was alive. I never thought I’d get the chance to be a teacher after I die. Talk about bringing honor to the family."

After he said this, Zoe Sawyer and Heath Hale opened their mouths to speak but then stopped, unsure how to comfort him.

But Mr. Miller didn’t wait for a response. He took a blank piece of paper from the nearby drawer and wrote out his wishes, just as he had stated them.

Then he signed it and pressed his thumbprint onto it.

This entire process took place under the watchful eyes of Zoe Sawyer and Heath Hale.

After everything was done, Mr. Miller let out a heavy gasp.

The series of actions had used up all the energy he had been saving. He leaned back against the bed, looking extremely weak.

Heath Hale solemnly put the document away. Before he could speak, the sound of Old Man Miller’s hurried footsteps came from outside the door.

"Coming, coming!" Old Man Miller rushed in, holding a bowl and chopsticks, afraid he wouldn’t make it in time.

The young nurse followed behind him, carrying a thermal container.

Old Man Miller sat beside Mr. Miller, feeding him the meal from the thermal container bite by bite.

Tasting the familiar salty flavor, the smile on Mr. Miller’s lips grew wider, and he began to eat faster and faster.

’Dad’s still the same,’ he thought. ’He’s gotten old and can’t really taste how salty things are, so he’s always heavy-handed with the salt.’

’But this is just how I like it.’

As he thought this, Mr. Miller took several more bites, managing to finish every last bit of food in the container.

Old Man Miller wiped his son’s mouth clean and straightened his clothes.

Feeling his son’s breathing become more and more labored, Old Man Miller’s heart ached. He finally looked at the young nurse beside them and said, "Miss, could I trouble you to take a picture for us?" 𝐟𝑟ⅇ

Hearing this, everyone else in the room understood what it meant. It seemed Mr. Miller didn’t have much time left.

The young nurse sniffled, pulled out her phone, and smiled at Old Man Miller. "Of course, no problem at all. Come now, Sir. I’ll take a lovely picture of you two."