A day later...

Zeus's Father's POV

Becoming a boxer takes intense hard work. It bears a lot of effort before you stand out, reach the crowd's expectations, increase your strength both mental and physical, surpass your limit, and totally become a legend at the end.

It's not just boxing... but if it involves passion and determination, it is included. Everyone knows that.

My son, whose both determination and passion are more powerful than mine, would eventually stand out in the future. His blood, sweat, and tears will totally pay off someday. I know that... not only as his father but also as his coach.

Sitting in this chair makes me feel uncomfortable and tense. Maybe... I'm more afraid than not being with my son in his match... Or maybe, I'm more afraid of what sort of result this could be.

In front of me, right above my eyes, stood the TV live show of my son's fight on stage. I couldn't come with him to his match but I know this is what he felt too, sadness and happiness, when he couldn't come to my brawl when I haven't retired yet. How unfortunate. I hope I'm there, one of the crowds, to come and cheer up for him.

Wow...

My son's all grown-up.

For thousands of years, boxing has been honed and mastered. It employs head movements, footwork, and punches to create a highly effective striking style. Yet my son overtook everything, which I didn't expect. Even the ones I haven't taught him, he learned it all by himself.

One time he asked me about what to teach him, either a new technique or body improvement. I smiled knowing I have no idea what to teach him next. I've got nothing to teach him already. I've taught him all. He overcame everything all at a young age. Maybe he's born with talent, it's literally a gift. My son was born a genius.

I hope after he knows about everything, after this, he won't be mad at me... and...

... forgive me for what I've done to myself.

I know it's hard for a father to see his son shrieking and pleading on his knees, asking his father to be strong and fight for everything. But I have to accept that one day, this would happen. I have to accept it.

"Good day, sir." A voice I heard following the sound of a closing door, a man wearing a lab gown showed up and paused for a while at the entrance.

"Good, day," I answered, looking like I ignored the man slowly walking behind me.

"You really came to the said appointment. Thank you for being here, Mr. Curaraton," said the man as he walked beside me. While I was all focused on my son's fight on TV, I could feel the man's blank stare at the TV, then glancing back at me.

"So that's your son?" he asked, sitting down in front of me, putting on his eyeglasses while scanning the folder he was holding.

A huge table gapped our distance. As I was trembling, almost feeling unwell, he looked at me, clasping his hands upon getting closer to the edge of the table.

I nodded, staring at my shaking hands, and unable to breathe a single word.

"M-May I know the result, Doc?"

After a few seconds, he went to his folder and showed me an x-ray image of my lungs.

Why am I shaking? I expected this to happen. Relax, relax.

"Based on the test we've been taking so far, data came out stating that there's a huge tumor in your lungs causing you to reduce your ability to breathe. Abnormal growth of tissue started in your upper right lung and it has spread in some parts of your body, causing you to cough and need a breather sometimes," he explained, pin-pointing every part of the lung image.

What's this nonsense?

A tumor... leads to lung cancer... Of course, I know that thing in the first place.

"Does this mean I'm going to die?" I quivered, avoiding an eye-contact at the doctor.

A long pause was seen on his very blank face. I feel like he felt sorry for me.

I knew it.

It's a bad result.

"I'm sorry to say this, Sir..." he removed his eyeglasses and looked at me with his eyes feeling pity at me ".... You have lung cancer..." And there, an annoying pause again, "... it's a terminal illness."

His words splinter inside me, bringing as much misery as the illness. He's telling me that there will be no more bonding with my wife, no more birthdays, I won't witness the day my son marrying his beloved one, and I won't be able to glimpse my grandchildren.

Terminal cancer...

A very incurable one.

How unfortunate of me.

I felt like my whole world crumbled into pieces, making me breathe harder even more. Once my son and wife know about this, I hope they'd forgive me.

I looked back at the TV which shows my son defeating his opponent. I smiled, tears went rolling down my cheeks...

I'm really glad I have a son like him.

"How many days do I have left?" I stared into the void, almost going crazy by the thought of me going to die one day.

"Unfortunately, Sir, you have a week left."

I have to say sorry with my whole heart until I die.

In the end, it's not death that frightens me, but agony. I won't know anything if I don't wake up in the morning. My matters are in order, and my wife and kid are as well-provided for as they can ever be. I have a swarm of friends who are dedicated to rearing kids as if they were besotted aunts.

I sobbed till my eyes ran dry and my chest heaved forcefully as I mourned the loss of life I should have had with them months ago. I'm still not over it. I will never be. I wished to be with my wife until her hair become all white, skin all dry and thinner, and for my son to be a man as good as his father, carrying my grandkids.

But it is not my fate in life, and I have accepted that the Lord has called me home before I was ready. I've stopped asking myself, "Why me?" "I'm no longer enraged with God." I know He works as quickly as He can think the scientists and physicians. It was simply not quick enough for me. So please allow me to kiss the dear someones who have graced my life and return to Him.

I'm now prepared.

"I see."

The insurance...

I've had it prepared already when I knew something was amiss with my chest right after five days of visiting a chemical station for business purposes. I must have ingested a lot of chemicals in those few days. I had no idea they handed me a broken suit to wear. That may be the reason why it's now making me diagnosed with lung cancer.

The only thing I'm worried about right now is how to spend my remaining time with my wife and son. Everyone is busy that they had no idea there's been wrong with me.

We all exist in this mortal realm, thus death is unavoidable. What irritates me is that death is taking longer and is more painful than it should be. Day by day, my body will self-destruct. The tumor will grow, spread, eat, and smash the very organs that keep it alive. I've lived a reasonably nice life, better than most, and I don't need to linger as a living ghoul; an "exit" pill would be gentler than all the attention from the hospice personnel that awaits me.

As I walked back home, I can always bring myself up to a standing position, but the tears pour in such torrents that I want for a hand to reach down. It's a good thing I can only hear the echo of my feet as I ascend.

When others see gloom, I see silver-blue skies. When others see freezing rain, I see a coldness that lifts me to a greater level of awareness, making me more conscious of my internal flame.

What I need will never come and no matter how much I seek I won't find it. I wasn't born to achieve greatness, nor to find my place in the sun. I could strive every day and work for what I want and need, but there are no avenues to success from where I am. In the end, I will still die.

When I reach the end of my seven days, I will come to an end... just to meet another light.

Nothing but this silly chair in my room, I found myself almost losing my mind. Despite being devasted from the news, I took a blank leaf of paper placed below my desk and a pen from a pencil case that Zeus made for me when he was still in elementary.

As I trembled non-stop, I couldn't control my tears from falling so it left tears on the paper instead. I tried so hard to stay calm while thinking about accepting everything.

Now that my death has come, I will still suffer for those seven days of feeling pain.

Should I just kill myself tomorrow after we celebrate the resulting match of my son?

Or should I just wait for the moment when I die?

I have to decide right away.

If I wait until the end, it will be extremely difficult for me to endure seeing both my wife and kid cry upon watching me on my deathbed. That's too much for my heart to bear.

If I face death tomorrow night, at least I'll get to see their smiling faces. But isn't this just selfishness? I get to see their cheerful spirits before I commit suicide, but they only get despair once they see me hanging, lifeless.

Yeah, right.

My birthday is also tomorrow. But I don't care about my birthday. What I only care about is how my family would feel after my death.

I was perplexed because I needed more perspective, to take a step back and view the wide lens version. There was so much more to see that it's no surprise I couldn't figure things out back then.

After minutes of thinking, I finally made up my mind.

Dear Isabella and my son, Zeus. I ask you for forgiveness.

I can't be with you when you need me. I can't be with you in the near future. I can't witness everyone's journey and success in life.

There is a natural moment for a bird to leave its nest, and it is healthy and appropriate. And I think that bird would be me, and that nest will be the both of you. Leaving may be part of loving of demonstrating that I am capable of doing what I have been raised to do. As a result, our love relationships are constant, powerful, and palpable.

Come sit with me in paradise for as long as you want when you reach the end of your life. You are such a pleasure to be around. Then there will come a moment when you will wish to choose a new mission, and you will be able to do so. Then we will do it all again. It is a fine way to spend eternity, right?

Goodbye, go by the good ways, walk the good paths, and one day we will meet again in the light.