Just a few months had passed, but Margot's parents, Thomas and Elaine, had aged decades. Their eyes were cloudy, exhaustion etched into every line of their faces. When Jaxon arrived, they barely acknowledged him, nodding faintly before returning to wiping down the photo frames of Lauren and Margot.
"Thomas, Elaine, I brought Margot to keep you company," Jaxon said, his voice flat, almost mechanical. "You probably haven't eaten yet. I'll cook something."
They coughed violently, blood flecking their lips, and waved him off. "No need to fuss. The help's already making dinner."
Thomas's voice trembled as he continued, "We don't have long left, do we? Now we know how much pain Margot was in with that liver cancer. How did she hold on, acting like everything was fine? What a fool she was."
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