"Auntie."
In the hospital room, Vic Farrant looked at the old woman lying in the hospital bed in front of him, his voice gentle and soft, "I should go now. Take good care of yourself, and I'll come to see you some other time."
"Alright, alright."
The old woman in the hospital bed smiled kindly as she watched the girl leave. Once she was gone, the old woman finally let her face return to its calm state and closed her eyes tightly, lying motionless in the same spot.
Who knows how many monitors were installed in this hospital room?
Everything she said and did was being watched by countless people.
When the girl entered the room with no difficulty, the old woman knew that the girl her son liked wasn't just a simple political teacher.
They didn't talk about anything important, just making small talk like one would when visiting an elderly, sick person. It seemed completely normal, but the more normal it seemed, the more it suggested that something was amiss.