You Must Choose

Luke

The flight to my homeland felt as if it took days. I wasn’t able to do much more than stare out the window at the fluffy white clouds. Father would never sit on this plane again. He wouldn’t do much more than he already had. The thought punched me in the gut. I was barely able to take a full breath until we landed.

The moment I stepped off the plane, I called Mother to make sure that Father was still alive.

“He’s resting,” she said. “We have all the best doctors helping him get comfortable. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m not there yet,” I said, hanging up and getting into the car waiting for me. I snapped my fingers at the driver, and he took off. With just one look from me, he knew not to dilly dally. I placed my phone next to me on the seat in case Mother needed to get in touch with me. We had about a forty-minute drive until we reached the palace, but from the speed that the car was going, I had some idea we would make it there sooner.

I hated when things were out of my contro