The sterile scent of the hospital hung heavy in the air as Cephas entered the room where his father lay, weakened by the relentless assault of cancer. The machines hummed softly, monitoring the vital signs of the man who had been a beacon of strength in Cephas's life. The room, bathed in the soft glow of dim lights that seemed to reflect the dull energy in the room. "Hey, Dad," Cephas greeted, his voice a mixture of warmth and concern. His father, frail but still possessing a spark of resilience in his eyes, managed a small smile. "Cephas, my boy. Come, sit. There's much to discuss." His heart warmed up to his dad, it was the first time his father has spoken to him kindly. He had addressed him as 'my boy.' a statement he had wanted to hear since he was a teen. Cephas took a seat by his father's bedside, the plastic chair creaking beneath him. He studied the lines etched on his father's face, evidence of a life well-lived and battles bravely fought. It was a stark contrast to the
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