Stephenie Meyer. Twilight (№ 8239)

- I have something to admit... I'm dying. This was known long before my arrival in forks.
Edward obviously waited, and his face alternately reflected distrust, embarrassment and... fear. He opened his mouth, but say nothing decided.
- The disease is incurable, - has answered mute question me.
Darkened eyes studied my face, trying desperately to find at least something that indicates that I'm lying or joking.
- And Charlie knows?
- Of course. We just try not to think about it...
Edward's mouth opened slightly limp again, but he immediately took himself in hand. His face turned into a mask.
And what is this disease?
I watched him with awe. If you say that it's cancer, he will not stop until we find a cure. And will find for sure.
- It's called... mortality - finally I replied.