I took a seat next to papa, my eyes traveling over his frail form.

How could a war veteran, a fit, healthy man, be reduced into a skeleton in less than seventy two hours?

The tears came quickly – the sight was enough.

Offering some stupid comfort, I grasped his bony hand, and his eyes fluttered open.

“Ah, Aidan. Always on time,” he said, his face splitting into a weak smile.

“H-how can you joke at a time like this?” I sobbed, a little anger shining through my tears.

“We knew it was coming…sooner or later,” this time, his words were broken by a cough. “Acute leukemia, they said. Bah, it’s all a bunch of medical jargon.”

“You shouldn’t speak!” I reprimanded, my own voice cracking hideously.

“Oh? And what? Am I going to stay silent?” he whispered, a ghost of a grip answering the pressure on his hand.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I don’t want this.”

“What, you think I do?”

I just held on tighter.

“I have something to tell you, Aidan.”

What could he possibly…?