"Zarkon. I'm sorry but your illness doesn't seem to be getting any better." Ulaz said to the emperor who sat on an examination bed in the infirmary.
"There's nothing we can do, is there?" Zarkon asked sadly.
"Not much. You have an estimated ten to 15 years left. Does she know?" Ulaz asked him. The word 'she' very obviously means one woman in specific.
"No. I don't have it in me to tell her. She's been so content lately. We have our long lost daughter back and we're going to have a grandchild soon. I can't ruin her happiness." Zarkon said with a deep sigh.
"Zarkon, she is your wife. She deserves to know. She vowed to support you through everything. She will help you." Ulaz reassured.
"I don't know how to tell my wife that I'm slowly dying!" Zarkon growled in frustration.
"Dad?"
Ulaz and Zarkon's heads snapped in the direction of the infirmary entrance to see Leara standing there in disbelief and horror.
Zarkon then stood in front of her, kneeling down with pleading eyes.
"Don't tell your mother."
