As evening fell, Sophia, dressed in fresh clothes, wheeled out Marcus and Tristan from their suite.
Thaddeus, with his wife and little daughter, was already waiting for the elevator in the hallway.
After seeing his elder daughter wheel Marcus towards him, Thaddeus grumbled. “You claimed you weren't well, which is why you didn’t come to pick us up from the airport. Now, when it's time to go out for dinner, your health is suddenly fine?”
Marcus, unfazed by Thaddeus’s sarcasm and disapproval, responded, “I apologize if I gave you the impression that I was avoiding the pickup intentionally. It was Sophia's suggestion that I stay at home with Tristan. I didn't mean to offend you. Next time, I'll make sure I'm there to greet you.”
Although he was polite on the surface, his voice carried an undertone of scorn, implying that Thaddeus was being somewhat petty for his age.
Thaddeus, realizing Marcus’s veiled defiance, was about to retort when Sophia interjected. “Dad, it was me who didn't want him to go out this morning. Blame me, not Marcus. He was really not feeling well today. He only got better after taking some medicine in the afternoon.”
Thaddeus, giving some leeway for his daughter’s sake, refrained from criticizing Marcus further. He grumbled, “Fine, hurry up and get this invalid into the elevator. Your mother and I are starving.”
Sophia sighed, aware that her father, although accepting Marcus for her sake, was not particularly fond of him.
She then carefully wheeled Marcus into the elevator.
Downstairs awaited a van, fitted with an easy-access ramp for the wheelchair. With ease, Sophia pushed Marcus into the van, with Tristan following closely behind.
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