LONDON, ENGLAND
Peter Martins paced frustratingly on a glassy balcony of Romeo hospital. The events of the past few minutes were warring against the entirety of his being. It started with the sudden heavy attack on his father. For some time now, Mr. Martins have lived with and battled a known dreadful and incurable health condition- cancer. Cancer of the throat. It started from the normal cold then advanced to sore throat and hoarseness which persisted . They had fought as a family all this while till the cancer prevailed more and started showing advanced symptoms of persistent coughing, difficulty swallowing and severe headache. " Was his father going to give up?" He thought and took a sip of the pineapple juice in his right hand. " Never!" He convinced himself. But he knew better not to hope for any sudden recovery. His father was gradually trudging down the alley of death. And he couldn't do anything to help him. The gradation in his dad's emaciation rate for the past few days was alarming. He took another sip . Now breathing heavily in bitterness , he flung the juice into the air from the balcony and watched it land some meters away, not minding if it landed on someone. He retracted his path and went inside.
"You obviously can't do that now." Mrs. Martins said, standing close to her husband who looked pitiable on that bed. Her countenance wasn't so good.
" We… have to." Mr Martins managed to say.
" This is definitely not the right time to do that, honey. Maybe when you are out of here." She shrugged.
" Does it look to you I will make it out of here? "
" Of course. I believe so. "She replied.
" But not alive." Mr Martins said.
" No." She sat close to her husband. " You can't give up now."
" Listen woman, you and I know this truth of me not making it out of here. Don't hope much to avoid much harm. Besides," he coughed .
" Sorry my dear." She patted his forehead.
" Besides, you will only create more burdens for our son."
" Talking of Peter, you know we have grown to take him as our own son. Why do you still insist on telling him the truth?... I mean, that's no longer necessary. "
" I made a vow, remember? " He winced in pain. " You are … fully aware of" he coughs, " the circumstances behind his arrival in this home."
Mrs Martins said nothing.
" He deserves nothing but the truth. If I can't give my son that truth, I can't have peace. Even after death."
" But you know he will surely want to go out there to seek the truth after hearing that."
Mr. Martins nodded weakly.
" What then happens to his inheritance?"
" What he bears is beyond that. He must know now."
" Know what, father?" Peter walked in when they didn't expect.
" Son.. you are here." The fidgety tone of Mrs Martins' voice proved they hid something. But what?
" Yes, I am here , mother. What do I deserve to know, father?"
" The truth. " Mr Martins answered.
" What truth?" Peter asked, still not getting it.
" The truth about your identity." Mrs Martins chipped in.
" What are you both talking about? I need an explanation right now. "
" Lis—" Mr Martins was cut short by a coughing bout.
" Call the doctor!" Mrs Martins shouted at Peter who disappeared with immediate effect and reappeared in no time.
" Doctor, what's happening?" Mrs Martins asked.
" You guys have to leave right now." The doctor said, eyeing Peter Martins and his mother.
" Leave? Is anything happening to my husband?"
" Not at all, ma'am. " The doctor replied calmly. " Now, if you don't mind, you can give us some space."
" Come on, mother. Dad needs space right now. " He took the fifty-three years old woman to leave when his dad held his hand.
" What's it , father?" The man was still coughing. His mouth movement showed he had a lot to say but was unable to do that. His grip loosened.
" You have to go now." The doctor said as more nurses walked in. Peter left with his mother to the glassy balcony he had been for a while. For some minutes, neither of the two uttered any word.
" You have questions, don't you?" Mrs Martins asked, wiping her face clean with a handkerchief.
" Not really." Peter replied.
" You know you can't hide it from me. Look at your breathing. It's tense, you know."
" But mom, don't I deserve to be tensed up? I mean, what the hell in this world was dad saying back there? Does cancer have any effects on its victims mentally?"
" That was extreme."
" That too was more extreme. I still can't reconcile his words . The truth? What truth is that?"
" The truth about your identity."
" Like seriously? You too are part of this."
" Son, you have too many impossibilities to battle with. "
" Impossibilities." He repeated.
" Yes, son. And one thing you must make sure of is to never be defeated by them."
" Mother, you still speak in parables. What truth must I know?"
" How do I say this to you?"
" Anyhow you can make me understand."
Mrs Martins cleared her throat and adjusted her position in the chair.
" I want you to always bear in mind that you are my only child. Our first and only. " The emotion from that tone melted Peter. She continued. " We are your parents and yet not your parents."
Peter smiled weakly. " My parents and not my parents. Give me the benefit of doubt ."
" We are not your biological parents. That's what we have been meaning to say. "
" What …. Did you say?"
" This must be a shock to you. But son, all you need is the truth. You deserve it. "
Peter said nothing.
" The rest of the truth awaits you at home. "
Peter just stared at her.
"You have always wanted to know the content of the hidden safe. I believe now is the time for you to know. " She stood up. " But then son, you must prove you are ready to know everything."
" How?"
" Find the password of the safe yourself. You must key into your own truth. " With that, she left the young man.
Peter stood there , dazed by the words he heard. After some time, he made up his mind. The truth and the truth alone was what he needed. He left immediately and departed from the hospital premises with only one destination in mind— home