It was a pity; if Sergio had opened it and actively sought treatment, he might have lived a few more days.
Maybe it was his fate.
I returned the cross and then prayed in front of it, asking for Jesus to forgive my negligence in protection.
In a daze, I seemed to hear Jesus's voice forgiving me.
Sergio only mocked me for doing futile things, but he did not know the effort I put into bringing the cross there.
It was not easy to acquire such a large cross.
I had run from church to factory to get it.
Yet Sergio and the others destroyed all my hard work in just one hour.
Sergio was right; what I did was indeed futile.
