His voice faded.
Marc looked back at him.
“Grandpa…”
Henri’s eyes filled.
He struggled to lift his hand toward the cabinet.
“I was keeping it for her.”
Marc’s breath caught.
Henri shook his head slightly.
“Not to sell for a debt. I wanted…” He paused, unable to finish.
Marc leaned closer.
“What? Grandpa, what?”
Henri looked at him.
“One day, when I’m gone… I wanted it beside her. At her grave. Something of mine left with her.”
A tear slipped down the old man’s cheek.
Then his expression tightened again with pain.
Marc suddenly understood that this was not an argument anymore.
His grandfather was seriously ill.
He took out his phone.
He called the Swiss emergency number, 144.
He gave the address.
He explained that his grandfather had collapsed with severe chest pain and difficulty breathing.
The dispatcher instructed him to remain on the line.
Marc followed the instructions.
He kept Henri as still and comfortable as possible.
He did not try to give him food or drink.
He did not attempt to lift him.
He told the dispatcher when Henri’s breathing changed.
He kept speaking to his grandfather.
“Help’s coming.”
Henri’s eyes moved toward him.
“I’m here, Grandpa.”
Marc’s voice shook.
“I’m here.”
Henri looked frightened.
Marc had never seen that expression on his face.
Not anger.
Not irritation.
Fear.
The old man tried to speak.
Marc leaned closer.
“Don’t talk. Please.”
Henri’s hand moved weakly across the floor.
Marc took it.
The fingers were cold.
Marc held them with both hands.
For years, he had thought those hands were incapable of tenderness.
He had known them only as hands that repaired machines, adjusted tools, and pointed out his mistakes.
Now they trembled inside his own.
Marc began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
Henri looked at him.
“I’m sorry, Grandpa.”
Rain struck the windows.
The clocks kept ticking.
And in the glass cabinet, the gold pocket watch remained motionless at eight fifteen.
The ambulance arrived within minutes.
Two paramedics entered the workshop carrying medical equipment.
They assessed Henri, checked his vital signs, and began emergency treatment.
Marc stepped aside when asked.
He answered questions about his grandfather’s age, symptoms, medications, and medical history as best he could.
He knew embarrassingly little.
He knew Henri had once experienced heart problems.
He did not know the names of his medications.
He did not know when he had last seen his cardiologist.
One of the paramedics asked Marc to find any medication list.
He hurried upstairs.
In the kitchen drawer, beneath a collection of receipts and appliance manuals, he found a folded document listing Henri’s prescriptions.
He brought it down.
The paramedic thanked him.
Marc watched as they prepared to transport his grandfather.
Henri was conscious but weak.
His face looked strangely small beneath the oxygen mask.
Marc stood near the door.
“I’m coming with you.”
The paramedic explained where he should go and how to follow.
Marc nodded.
Before they moved Henri, the old man reached toward him.
Marc stepped closer.
Henri spoke faintly.
“Lock the shop.”
Marc looked at him.
For a second, he almost laughed.
Of course.
Even now.
“Okay.”
Henri’s eyes moved toward the workbench.
“The parts…”
“Forget the parts.”
Henri seemed to want to protest.
Marc shook his head.
“I’ll take care of it.”
The paramedics moved him.
Marc watched until they disappeared into the rain.
Then he stood alone in the workshop.
The cabinet was still locked.
The scattered parts covered the floor.
One small brass gear lay beside his shoe.
He crouched and picked it up.
It was so light he could barely feel it.
He thought of the shove.
The way Henri had stumbled.
The sound of the wooden box hitting the tiles.
He looked at his hands.
Then he began to shake.
At the hospital, Marc waited beneath fluorescent lights that made everyone look tired.
He telephoned his father.
Luc answered on the second ring.
“Marc?”
“Dad.”
Something in Marc’s voice made Luc stop.
“What happened?”
“Grandpa’s in hospital.”
“Why?”
Marc swallowed.
“He had chest pain. He collapsed.”
“Is he conscious?”
“Yes. I think so. They’re treating him.”
Luc asked which hospital.
Marc told him.
“I’ll come,” Luc said.
Marc closed his eyes.
“Dad…”
“What?”
Marc tried to speak.
He could not.
Luc waited.
Then Marc whispered, “We had a fight.”
There was silence.
“What kind of fight?”
Marc looked down.
“I pushed him.”
Luc did not answer immediately.
Marc heard traffic in the background.
“Dad?”
“I’m here.”
Marc pressed his hand against his forehead.
“I didn’t mean for him to fall.”
Luc spoke carefully.
“We’ll talk about that. Right now, tell me what the doctors have said.”
Marc explained what little he knew.
Luc said he was leaving.
The call ended.
Marc sat down.
He had spent months believing his father did not understand him.
Now he wanted nothing more than to hear his footsteps in the corridor.
Henri survived.
He had suffered an acute cardiac event requiring urgent treatment and close monitoring.
His age and previous cardiac history increased the risks, but the hospital team was able to stabilize him.
