Slowly, Oliver and Gregory loosened their embrace, their hands releasing each other's warmth. They rested their eyes, their foreheads meeting and gently touching. As their chests pulled away, Oliver immediately rose from the bed.

     Oliver walked towards the door and stood by the threshold, grasping the doorknob. He then cast a loving gaze back at Gregory, his face adorned with an engaging grin that radiated. Returning the smile, Oliver nodded at his spouse.

     Gregory's smile widened, his sparkling eyes reflecting a deep appreciation for Oliver's love. Taking a deep breath, he reciprocated the nod. Slowly, he laid his head on the pillow and closed his eyes.

     Oliver's glance briefly flickered towards the light switch, contemplating the room's illumination. With a decisive click, the bedroom instantly dimmed, and the darkness shrouded every corner. Oliver glanced for the final time at the room before stepping out and gently closing the door behind him, leaving Gregory to rest.

     The flashback abruptly shatters, jolting Oliver back to the present as the early dawn casts a soft glow around him. Oliver pauses and overhears the young girl, Mary, speaking in the background. With a calm and steady gaze, he looks at her and listens to her words.

"What happened to great-great-grandpa?" Mary wondered aloud.

Jean knelt and placed a finger before his lips. "Shh..."

     Oliver's gaze lowers. Then, he closes his eyes. Taking a slow but deep breath through his nose, he travels back in the past as his memories flash into his mind.

     It was the morning of 1896, and the early hours of sunrise painted a scene of ordinary tranquillity. The melodious songs of birds filled the air as they nested and took flight when a passing car rumbled through the street. Women gathered on the sidewalk, engaged in lively chatter while attentively watching over their energetic children.

     Thick, greyish clouds veiled the once-blue sky—as if the sun shyly hid behind their embrace. A cold gust of wind danced through the yards, causing the trees to sway gently in response. Vibrant flowers burst forth in gardens, embellishing the landscape with a riot of rich colours reminiscent of a vibrant rainbow.

     Inside a lavish corridor, Oliver strode along a fuzzy red carpet. Balanced on a tray he carried, a plate of freshly baked biscuits and two porcelain cups of steaming black tea awaited their destination. A grin stretched wide across Oliver's face as he watched the tea simmer and release its fragrant aroma while walking down the hallway.

     As Oliver traversed the polished walls with numerous portraits, he glided past a black-and-white photograph of himself and his spouse. Frozen in time, their faces exuded joy and an intimate closeness, their eyes locked onto the camera lens. Despite the elapsing decades since the picture was taken, its fading hues couldn't diminish the enduring smiles captured within the glossy frame.

     A door creaked open. Clutching the tray firmly, Oliver opened the door with his back, maintaining his balance. With a burst of anticipation, he stepped into the room.

     Oliver's gaze immediately landed on his slumbering spouse, Gregory, on the bed. A broad smile lit up Oliver's face as he approached Gregory, his hands steady, with the tray held with care. A thrill of excitement coursed through Oliver's veins as he drew closer to his beloved lover.

     Upon reaching the bed, Oliver set the tray with a plate of biscuits and two cups of tea on the nightstand. He then took a seat on the mattress beside Gregory. Joy overwhelmed Oliver, causing an uncontrollable smile to spread across his face as he watched his slumbering spouse. His hands trembled slightly, their fingers intertwining.

"...Good morning," Oliver whispered.

     Gregory lay motionless on the bed, like a statue in his serene repose, his eyes tightly shut. No response or words ever escaped his lips. He only remained still.

Oliver's voice broke the silence. "I thought, perhaps, once you have recovered, we could embark on a journey together," Oliver shared. "Let's board a ship and venture to Geveria. And have a vacation there," he suggested.

     However, Gregory didn't reply and offered no response. His eyelids remained closed, concealing his eyes from view. He lay unyielding and distant upon the bed, his body unmoving—as if carved from stone. The silence persisted, enveloping the room in stillness and uncertainty.

"...Hm. I also brought us some biscuits and a cup of tea," Oliver added.

     Gregory didn't utter or make a sound. His limbs refrained from moving, and his stillness permeated the air. Nevertheless, Oliver smiled as he watched his beloved spouse. Seeing Gregory illuminated Oliver's mood, and his grin widened. Carefully, he leaned in, gently resting his head upon Gregory's chest, his ear pressed against his clothes.

     Amidst the prevailing silence, Oliver took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He eagerly anticipated the comforting rhythm of Gregory's heartbeat resonating against his ear. Yet, the stillness persisted, unbroken by the expected sound.

     Oliver's eyes widened. His smile faded, replaced by a pout of disappointment. Desperately, he pressed his ear against Gregory's chest, yearning to catch even the faintest heartbeat. Oliver waited anxiously, hoping for a subtle thud to shatter the silence. But all he encountered was an unforgiving absence of sound.

     The gravity of realization bore down on Oliver, causing his stomach to rumble. Tears pooled in his eyes, brimming over and streaming down his cheeks. Uncontrollable sobs wracked Oliver's body as he wrapped his arms around his spouse. In the confines of the room, his cries reverberated, filling the space with lament. Oliver clung tightly to Gregory as his tears flowed down.

     Oliver's gaze snaps back to the present dawn of 1906. Tears spill from his eyes, carving a trail along his face. Each teardrop leaves its mark upon the pristine bedsheet, dampening the fabric. Consumed by the painful memory, Oliver lets out a heart-wrenching wail as the anguish crushes his heart with relentless force. The present moment becomes entangled with the past, blurring the boundaries of time as sorrow swallows Oliver's being.

"Father!" Victoria gasped.

     Jean rushes towards Oliver. As Jean's knees meet the edge of the mattress, he wraps his adoptive father in a tight and comforting embrace. Gently, Jean's fingers brush against Oliver's head, attempting to calm him down.

     Oliver feels his son's warm breath caressing his neck. Slowly, as Jean's comforting presence begins to take effect, Oliver's loud wail subsides, gradually transforming into quiet, barely audible whimpers. Eventually, the cries fade away, leaving only silence in their wake. Oliver then takes a deep breath and releases a heavy sigh.

"Bring me a jar..." Oliver said, meeting Jean's eyes.