HIS TIME

CHAPTER 5

Julian found himself trashed heavily by the heavy outpour, he quickly left his ex-in-law's gate and ran towards his left wing under the rain.

Julian had once perceived that his wife could someday demand a divorce but he didn't expect them to throw him off to the streets like they did.

He had raced for several miles, his heart pounding out to his chest, and his heartbeat echoed, "Julian you're strong, don't let this pull you down," those words Lilian firmly said to him kept resounding in his head as he kept sprinting.

He raced across the roadside and suddenly paused to catch his breath. 'I've got to do this,' he muttered to himself.

'Julian, you've got to do this,' he reiterated to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.

Luckily, an approaching cab was heading towards his standpoint despite the rain he flagged it and headed towards a location where his instincts whispered to him.

The cab personnel took him right to his destination, and he gently alighted and paid off with the last money he'd got.

He staggered and ambled towards the entrance gate of an exquisite structural edifice in one of the sought-after estates in Manchester City.

The gatekeepers at the entrance with umbrellas against the rain parted the gate for him to head inside the well-furnished mansion. The most magnificent building of all in the estates.

The three gatekeepers' mouths were dumbstruck, all staring at him like morons.

He sauntered beyond their standpoint and headed towards the main entrance door.

He met two other servants at the entrance door whose bodies froze at one spot, their eyes screaming, "Shock."

None uttered speeches to him and neither did he. He put forth more muscle and found himself inside the mansion through the main door entrance.

All the servants in the living room space simultaneously took two steps backward in shock, their hands cleaning off their eyes to be certain he was the person they were gazing at.

His entrance ushered about a minute of silence whilst all glanced at each other, numerous thoughts in their hearts. So many words uttered inwardly but kept unsaid. 

Julian finally cleared his throat, breathed out heavily, and fell to his knees, his fingers interlocked. "I'm the one… It's me!" His voice was cracking but firm.

A certain advanced bearded man, wearing a well-fitted red suit with his glory oozing wealth; perceived the words that escaped Julian's lips and embraced him passionately.

"Oh-finally… my son is back home," his heart exploded in joy. "Oops… it's my son."

He lent him a hand, took his knees off the ground, and blessed him with another affectionate embrace.

"Young…young master welcome," the servants in the living room finally voiced after moments of engrossed confusion amongst them.

Lord Marshall Roland's heart danced in unimaginable joy, his cheeks parted in the profound beam. "Son, it's been five years since you angrily walked out without a goodbye hint," his tone calm and moody. "You just left without a word."

Julian inhaled and exhaled deeply, he knew his father uttered but the fact. "Dad, I was damn upset with you, I blamed you for the death of my mother."

His voice rang like an alarm bell; in response, all the servants glanced at each other in confusion.

"Kill your mum?" Marshall echoed in severe shock. "I know you were very close to your mum, how would you ever assume I caused the death of the woman who meant the world to me, huh?"

Julian's blood ran cold, his spine quivered in disarray as his father's words fell into his eardrums. "Mum had lung cancer, yes we knew she'd eventually pass on sooner or later."

He continued but this time his voice was entangled with bitterness. "But mum could have lived for at least 12 to 18 months through Chemotherapy; with an anti-inflammatory diet, but you did none of those and allowed her to die within three months of diagnosis."

His father drew a deep breath, finally, he understood why his son left for five years. "Son, please listen to me," his eyes fixed on his face. "That was exactly what your mum wanted, that was her last wish before she passed on; I pleaded with her countless times to start up a Chemotherapy program but she vehemently refused."

"She may not have achieved all she had envisioned but she wanted to decide how she'd pass on. Son, your mum wanted to still be here and live as long as she could without the struggles and trauma that come with Chemo."

The atmosphere fell in abrupt silence at the retorted words of Lord Marshall Roland who needed to make his son revive from the shackles of misconception.

"Oh Father, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry for blaming you for what was beyond you," his tone depicting every sense of remorse. "Father, I never knew it was Mum's last wish."

"I'm sorry Father…" he spilled out, his face etched with every sense of genuineness.