His Triantafyllo

CHAPTER 59

"I let it fall, my heart,
and as it fell,
you rose to claim it.
It was dark, and I was over,
until you kissed my lips
and you saved me."

- Adele
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Third person's pov

The hard metal of the chair he was sitting on scraped his thighs. Letting out a deep sigh,he closed his eyes shut again.
He looked tired and exhausted but his eyes were hopeful.

Those hopeful deep eyes of his also held a distinct emotion he only felt once in life till now.

Scared

Xander was scared, terrified of what might come out the mouth of the Doctor who has been working for him for years.
He has never gotten any news in hospital that would make his smile or make his heart relieved or make him thank anyone.

That's the reason he never trusted these big buildings known to save people's lives but at the end, he also knew, on this earth, besides the so called god he doesn't believe in, doctors are the one who might be able to save lives of fragile humans.

It was in buman nature, to try.
Try everything they can , go to anyone they think can help them in miserable time of their lives.

And so was the case for Xander too.
The billionaire couldn't help but resort to the same place which took his hero, his grandpa away from him, the only option to save his light, his life,his wife.

His Triantáfyllo..

A feminine voice brought him out of his thoughts. He turned to his right to see a lady dressed in a simple white blouse and maroon slacks, folding hands in front of a man covered in white coat, seemingly an inch shorter than the lady.

"Please! Please save his life."
The lady begged.

Life

Such a small, four letter word but mean so much to everyone.
They say, life is full of colours, sometimes dull, sometimes bright but for the man waiting in that almost empty hallway, life has mostly it shown him the colour black.

Dark black.

How can black be dark? One might question but after looking into this lost billionaire's eyes, they would get their answer.

Maybe if they look a little closely, they might also see his dark soul.

Just like his soul, the colour black dominated everything in him, in his life.
His soul was just as black as the clothes he wore.
As it should be because life is full of colours, death is not.

Death has only one colour and that is the magnificent black.
He was dead inside, he had pains buried deep inside of him that one would have to kill him to get those sufferings and pains out of him.

And maybe the reason he wears black is not only because it represents his pains but also because because it's the only colour he's ever known, the only colour that ever gave him safety, a sense of belonging.

One couldn't know what way to choose in the dark because darkness offers no paths, it doesn't provide a torchlight and a guide to get out of it, the darkness.

Instead, it confuses you, it lets you get lost, and then slowly but gradually, it carves itself in you.

You become darkness because it's what you've known for so long.

You never want to get out of it until a sliver of light fights it way into the darkness and engulfs you in it's warmth.

The black never provided warmth, it was simply cold and cruel.