Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change? novel Chapter 193

Chapter 193 

Gilbert steadied himself and comforted Sylvia. 

“Grandma, don’t you trust Fran? He’s amazing, isn’t he? He’s beaten being in a coma, and is rehab going to scare him?” 

Those words struck a chord with Sylvia. 

Sylvia nodded. “You’re right. Francis has always been sweet and never caused me any worry. Everything he does is…” 

She glared at her younger grandson Gilbert, “You’re nothing like him! Always finding ways to rile up!” 

me 

At that, a shadow flickered in Gilbert’s eyes, almost unnoticeable, gone immediately. 

“Exactly.” Gilbert arched an eyebrow, his tone indifferent as ever. “Well, that’s the difference between the golden child and the black sheep, right?” 

Sylvia couldn’t help but laugh, tears fresh on her cheeks, as she playfully tapped Gilbert’s forehead. 

“Oh, now that your brother’s awake, you’re back to being a naughty kid!” Sylvia sighed, “I just hope Francis gets better soon. That way, you can relax a bit, right?” 

“Yes, Grandma.” Gilbert nodded. 

The grandson and grandmother duo stayed in the hospital room that night, making do for the night. 

The following morning, Sylvia helped Francis with his morning routine, with Gilbert assisting her. 

Francis couldn’t speak, but his cheeks turned red, clearly embarrassed. 

“Oh.” Sylvia understood instantly. 

How could she not know her grandson? 

“Feeling shy, Fran? What’s there to be shy about with Grandma? You and 

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Gilbert, I’ve taken care of you since you were babies…” 

“Grandma!” Holding a basin, Gilbert protested. “Don’t lump me in with that! What’s this about diapers? I was born a suave gentleman!” 

“Nonsense!” Sylvia scolded, “Were you born this tall?” 

“Of course.” Gilbert lifted his chin proudly. “I was born to be six–foot–three.” 

“Heh.” Sylvia scoffed, shaking her head, seeing through him, “Your brother is six–foot–three. You’re six–foot–two and a half.” 

Gilbert was speechless. 

On the hospital bed, Francis watched them, a smile curling on his lips. 

Afterward, Sylvia sat beside the bed, feeding Francis water. 

Francis had just woken up, the feeding tube not yet removed. Following the doctor’s orders, they began with water. 

“Here.” Sylvia spooned the water gently. “Take it slow. No rush.” 

Francis struggled to swallow the water, a bit dribbling from the corner of his 

mouth. 

Holding a towel, Gilbert quickly wiped it dry. “No rush, Fran. You’re doing great 

for a start…” 

Knock, knock. The hospital room door sounded.