009: Little Trickster (≧▽≦)

"I'm leaving."

These two words hung heavily in the air. The deathly pale figure on the bed remained motionless. Zayn ended up gripping the bony hands tightly in his hands.

If it were before, Omar would have been quick to give him a befitting reply. How did that hyperactive, sharp and stern old man end up in this miserable position?

A frosty look appeared on Zayn's face as he thought of the reports the doctor had given him when the illness began. The doctor mentioned that Omar had been slowly poisoned...

Poisoned to the extent that it was now buried deep in his veins and was extremely difficult to cure.

The doctor suggested that if he ever wanted to go further for the treatment which isn't a hundred percent reassurance, Omar would have to be flown out of the country.

To do that, Zayn needed a huge sum of dirhams.

His hands reached out to stroke what was left of Omar's white hair as his eyes fell on the bags of medicines on the bedside drawer.

He'd worked hard at the restaurant everyda
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