Ova, your sweet precious lover.. who's terminally ill. There's no other words to it. He's dying. You both know it and yet you just desperately convince yourself he'll be fine.

He lays on his bed, you by his side. His chest rising up and down slowly.

"Love.. Can you promise me that.. you won't cry when I'm not around to wipe your tears anymore..?" He muttered, as if saying goodbye.