Marcus could hear the horn sound in the distance, a sign he was getting closer to the island. Soon he would ​be face to face with the father he left behind ten years ago. Every day since he left, he had made a mental list of all the things he wanted to say when he returned, but now only one thing came to mind, he would apologize.

He would seek his father's forgiveness for all the mistakes he had made and try to atone for his wrongdoings.

As the ship neared the harbour, Marcus was drawn back to the past.
He could still remember the pleading expression on his father's face as he tried to stop him from leaving.

His grey eyes, which were usually so serious, were earnest and moist with emotion. He had held Marcus's forearm, holding him back from entering the boat on this very dock.

It was the month after Marcus's mother's death.

Their lives had been torn asunder the moment his mother had taken her last breath.

She had been the only thing keeping them together and with her demise, they had no reason to live together.
Marcus, then a young man of twenty-five, was at the zenith of his ego.

The mere thought of living under the same roof as his father was preposterous.
Mr. Berkeley on the other hand, was willing to let go of all the past differences between father and son and start life anew.
They only had each other left and Mr. Berkeley didn't want to loose that.

However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't persuade his son to stay with him.

This had broken his already shattered heart to innumerable pieces.
The thought that what had started as a simple disagreement between them, had now been aggrevated to such an extent that his son no longer wanted to live with him, was undeniably incredible.

He hadn't realised that his disciplined upbringing of his son would result in such a deep resentment in his son's heart towards him.

They had been growing apart since Marcus attained the age of fifteen. Their first disagreement had resulted when Mr. Berkeley had commanded Marcus to work in the farm alongside the helpers.
His intentions had been to make him understand the importance of hard work and coordination but Marcus hadn't​ taken it that way.

For him, it was a method of preventing him from enjoying his leisure.

Since then, over the next ten years, they just continued to grow apart. Once or twice Marcus had an outburst.
Mr. Berkeley tried to let it pass as a common act of rebellious behaviour of the youth of these days but that was just the beginning of the series of outbursts that followed.

That had been his biggest mistake, not recognising the signs of the drift in their relationship.

Marcus's mother was the only one who understood him. She knew him through and through.

Mary Berkeley had tried once too often to mend their relationship but the damage was already done. What was damaged, couldn't be recovered no matter how hard she tried.

And then came the unfortunate development of her suffering from consumption. That was the last straw.
With her death, died the little of what was left of the relationship between the father and the son.

Marcus had decided to leave the island and try his luck somewhere in the mainland... Probably in one of the main cities.

He knew he was leaving his father in a poor state of mind as well as body.
Since his mother's​ death, Mr. Berkeley had become the shell of the man he used to be.

His eyes seemed to search only for his son. He was his life now, his only reason to live.

Unfortunately, Marcus was too absorbed in his own self-pity and ego to notice his father's need for a shoulder to cry upon.
He had left the island the next month itself, leaving behind his distraught father.

The city had been lucky enough for Marcus. He had not only gotten the source of livelihood but also the love of his life, his wife Emilia.
She became his light in the dull city.

They married a year after he had arrived in the city and were blessed with a beautiful daughter, Lily, two years later. He was proud of the beautiful girl his Lily had grown into and now they were expecting their second child in less than three months.

His business as a merchant, was flourishing more than ever and he was the happiest he had ever been...That is until the day he received the fateful letter telling him that his father had very little time left with him and he had asked for him.

Marcus had been trying to forget about his old life. He had thought of his father innumerable times in the last ten years but he never felt the need to visit him.

That day however, as he read the letter, he felt the ground beneath his feet give away. His heart plummeted and the dread settled in.

Along with the dread came that foreign emotion of guilt and regret.
He wished he has never left his father alone. He wished he had been there for him all this time. But there was nothing he could do about it now.His father​ was dying.

Emilia had persuaded him to visit his father although he wasn't willing to do that.

It wasn't that he did want to.
As a matter of fact, that was the only thing he wanted at that moment but he had no inkling of what he'll say when he would meet him.

Will he be forgiven for abandoning him? Will he forgive him for not replying to all those letters that he sent every month?
Will he forgive him for failing as a son?

Marcus couldn't gather the courage that he knew he needed to face his father. It was going to be the most difficult confrontation he had ever had but Emelia was adamant.

At last, after finally putting aside his uncertainties and doubts, he decided to undertake the journey.

The only possessions he had with him were his small briefcase containing his casuals and his guilt and shame that settled deep within his heart.

The bell sounded louder and the steward yelled for the passengers to climb down.

He hadn't realised that they had reached the dock and the ship had been anchored.

Taking in a deep breath of determination, he stepped down and hailed the nearest carriage for a ride to the Berkeley Mansion.

As the carriage made its way through the windy streets and hilly tracks, Marcus relived the memories of his sweet childhood.
He could envision himself running by the side of the bourn with his father in tow as they tried to catch on to a unbridled horse.

He reminisced about the good old days when his father would teach him how to ride a horse and sow the seeds in their farm; he could remember them spending hours on end trying to get the kennel in the right shape.

The images flashed before his eyes one after another- him on a piggyback ride on his father's back, them collecting the eggs from the pen, them walking through these same paths towards the town market and trying to eat the cookies behind mum's back.

But alas! Those days were long gone. They were now replaced by the bitter memories that kept piling up like bullets, making each hole larger than the other till their relationship was hanging by a thread...A thread that was broken the moment his mother died.

Marcus couldn't help the guilt that overpowered his mind and heart as he thought about his father.

If anything, these last ten years had taught him how precious a thing seems when you lose it.
It's only them that we begin to acknowledge it's importance.

That letter was the moment of realisation for Marcus. In that moment he realised how much he still loves his father. That no matter how far away from home he went, his heart will always be there.

"Sir, we are here." The carriage-master announced as the carriage came to a halt.

Marcus was snapped out of his reverie and he stepped down.
Paying the man, he turned to behold the all-too-familiar red brick mansion in which he had spent twenty-five years of his life.

He could hear the clear stream rushing behind the house and in his mind's eye, he could envision the farm with its kennels, pens, stables and pond.

It was at that moment that he realised how much he had missed this.

However, the dread returned to his heart as he gazed at the facade.

The garden, which was usually so full of the chirping of birds, fragrance of a variety of flowers and the hues of innumerable flowers, was no more than a shell of its older self.

The grass was all dried up and the house seemed to be deserted.
It was nothing like the way he had left it. It seemed lifeless and dull.

Marcus's heart plummeted to his feet as his eyes beheld the gloomy landscape that once used to be his home.

With a heavy heart, he took dreaded steps towards the main gate.

Gathering his courage, he knocked at the door and held his breath.

The door opened to reveal John, their old farm-hand. He had on a sombre, distraught expression on his face that caused Marcus's ​throat to tighten up.

"Master Marcus?" John began uncertainly, squinting his weak eyes.

"Yes John." Marcus's voice was hardly audible.

"Oh Master! You're here...After all this time." John's voice quivered as he spoke.

Marcus smiled tightly. He couldn't bear to wait any longer to meet his father.
"Where's​ Papa?" He began with a pleading look in his eyes.

He saw John's face drop immediately and the dread returned.

"John?" Marcus couldn't bring himself to say more.

John looked at him with sympathetic eyes and then turned around, nodding his head in the direction of his father's bedroom.

"I'm so sorry Master. We couldn't do anything. It was too late." John's voice was sympathetic and agonised and he spoke, stopping at the entrance to his room.

Marcus froze in his tracks, his courage deserting him.
His mind refused to accept what he had just heard.

"No." He breathed out, his face eloquent of his shock.

John said nothing as he shook his head and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

He left Marcus standing at the entrance as he escorted the doctor, who had just emerged out of the room, out of the house.
The doctor patted Marcus's back sympathetically before leaving.

Marcus didn't know how long he stood there. His senses had become numb and his reason had deserted himself.

After what seemed like eternity, he absentmindedly made his way inside. The room was just as he remembered.

The mahogany four-poster bed and chest of drawers, the rich golden curtains, everything was the same.
Even his father...

God! His father!
He lay there in the bed, covered in white linen sheets. Marcus's breath was caught in his throat as he beheld the ashen, lifeless body of his father.

Jeremy Berkeley's eyes were shut. His unmoving hands lay prostrate on the bed and the sparse silver hair on his head was slicked back.

A lump formed in Marcus's throat as he observed the weight that his father had lost.

His cheek-bone protruded over the thin, fragile skin and his mouth seemed sunk-in.
The mere sight of him was pitiful.

Marcus moved beside the bed and knelt down. He was too overwhelmed by his emotions to say anything.

As he took his father's fragile, cold hand in his, the dam broke and the tears fell freely.

"Papa...Please. Wake up. I'm so sorry...Forgive me. Don't punish me like this....Please. I promise I'll never leave you again...Please." he spoke between his sobs.

However, no matter how hard he tried, he knew he could do nothing now. He had lost the chance. He was too late and now he had to live his whole life in regret because no amount of persuading could bring his father back...his eyes remained closed forever....

Author's note-
This story is for a contest by WordBandit

I hope you like it 😊