It had almost been half an hour that George had reached home. There wasn’t anybody else there. He had sent Edith with their son to her mother's house for a week. He knew that he had planned on doing this, and didn’t want them knowing about it or asking any questions. He was sitting in the bedroom, the money, laid down in front of him on the floor. He just kept looking at it. He wasn’t a bad man, he thought, he wasn't a thief. But there wasn't any other option left for him. Still looking at the money, his mind wandered. He thought about poor Molly.
Molly, his daughter, had been diagnosed with tuberculosis. They had no idea how it happened or from where she got the disease. What had seemed like all the happiness in the world, suddenly came down crashing right in front of their eyes. Edith was devastated; George, grief stricken. They both tried the best they could. They got the best doctors, all the medicines they had to. Edith looked after the child night and day. George put all his money and effort into saving their poor child. He even landed into a huge debt, trying to make sure that Molly could be cured. That, however, wasn't meant to be. Even after numerous doctors and medicines, one fateful evening, their Molly just gave up on life. Just like that, he thought. He remembered that day clearly, as if it was just yesterday.
He had been sitting beside her at that time, holding her hand, caressing her forehead, trying to comfort her. Then she started coughing. It wasn't really uncommon, her having been sick for weeks by that time. This time, however, it didn't stop. She coughed and bled, and coughed and kept bleeding from her mouth and nose. George had panicked. He knew it was bad. He was alone at home with Molly that evening. Edith was out to get groceries. She didn't take very long, but that day even fifteen minutes were too late. She reached home and found George still sitting beside the child, holding her tiny hand between his palms, just looking at her face. Molly just laid there, quiet, still, her blue eyed face looking more angelic than ever, sharply contrasting with the red, blood soaked sheets. For a fraction of a second, Edith didn't understand. Her eyes darted back and forth from her motionless child to her sombre husband, and then she knew. A mother's instinct immediately realized what had happened, and on the very spot she was standing, Edith fainted.
...To be Continued