APOLOGIES



Catching the sight of my father on his sick bed paralyzed me on this spot for minutes. My limbs went numb the moment I ambled in. All the cells of my body died minutes ago when I caught sight of his pale, weary face. I am unable to mumble a word, and the only thing speaking for me are the tears flowing freely from my eyes.

At least he is not connected to the tubes, but he is so worryingly pale. He looks so defeated by pain. He looks like the pain has taken a toll on him and sucked all the energy from him, rendering him helpless to battle this agony.

I shuffle my feet to his bed, albeit with so much grief in my heart. I drag a chair and recline beside him. I take his hand and clasp it into mine. I kiss it, and he stiffens but doesn't peel his eyes. I lay on his chest, pleading with God to have mercy on my poor father's soul. For my father to look like this, he must be dealing with a lot. He looks completely withered. The battle is too tough on him.


"My child!" The faint whisper of my father's voice slices through the heavy silence, pulling me from the depths of my despair and back into the present moment. The words, though feeble, carry a weight that ignites a surge of urgency within me, prompting me to jolt upright and meet his gaze.

With trembling hands, I hastily wipe away the tears that blur my vision, desperate to see him clearly and to lock eyes with the man who has been my rock through every storm. It is no wonder that the wave of how important my father is in my life is sweeping in me. I have always seen it as a threat to my peace and happiness. Someone whose only concern and goal in this life was to control me. I deemed him a very selfish person. But now, even if he was all that, I would accept it all just for him to remain alive. For him to remain with me.


"Pa... papa?" I murmur, my voice barely more than a whisper, choked with emotion as I search his weary eyes for a glimmer of reassurance, a spark of the strength that has always defined him.

But what I find instead is a haunting reflection of pain and defeat, a shadow cast across the once bright light that illuminated his spirit. His attempt at a grin is fleeting, a mere ghost of the radiant smile that once graced his lips. It fades almost as quickly as it appears, swallowed whole by the relentless tide of suffering that has overtaken him.

My poor father!

"My baby girl? Is this you, my child? Ellie? Are you... are you here, my girl? " He hums with so much battle for words, and I can't fight the tears flowing down my cheeks as I clatch his hand.

It has been a long time—so many years—since he called me his baby girl—years, to be precise. I had even forgotten how it felt to hear him call me his baby girl. After all this, he remembers how much I loved hearing him call me his baby girl, and I feel exactly like his baby girl, though no more the flawless, innocent little girl who couldn't defy his father or say no to him.

A genuine smile sweeps my lips to the furthest corners. "Yes, It is me, Papa," I mumble, and he makes an effort to heave himself up from the bed but I gently pin him back on the bed. "Don't tire yourself up, papa. Just rest."

He cups my face, his hands shaking a little. "I thought I would never see you again, my beloved child. I thought you left me for good, my dear. I thought you would never return to this old despotic man ever again in your entire life," he dries away my tears.

"How could you even think like that, pa?"God forgive me, because that was my plan. To stay as far away from him as possible until there was a dire need for us to face each other again. But I never wanted that dire need to be something like this. 'Please forgive me, father. I am sorry I left, okay? But I am here now," I assure him, more tears trickling down my cheeks, but he wastes no time in drying them away.

A faint smile appears on his lips again, but it fades so quickly. "And I am happy, but I would be happier if I stopped seeing these tears in your eyes, my dear. Don't feel bad. Your papa is strong. I will get over this."

Of course, he will. He will get better so that we can make up for all the lost times and go back to life together. The beautiful life that we had together. He needs to be okay. I can't bear seeing him like this. It is the first time I am talking to him tucked under the covers and looking so faint, and it is killing me. He should get better soon.

"Why didn't you tell me, Papa? Why did you keep it a secret from me, huh?" I implore, grabbing his hands from my face and caging them into mine.

"Because of this,. I didn't want to worry you like this. I am not dying, my child. I am stronger than you know, my dear Ellie."

That better be true, Papa. You better remain strong and get better quickly for me. There are a lot of things I need to tell you. You have the whole company to take care of, and this whole castle. And me too, because I need you so much. We have a long way to go, so you better not give up. Not now nor any time soon, Papa. I need you more than I ever thought, and the thought of losing you alone is breaking my heart into a million pieces. I can't lose you either. I can't. I won't be able to bear it.

"I know you are strong, Papa. So, fight, okay? For you and me. We have a lot of things to accomplish together, okay?"

"Promise me that you are not going away again? You will stay here with your papa." He queries between laboured breaths.