My name is Jackson Wang Jia-Er and the love of my life just died.

  According to the internet, in the year of 2015, 4.6% of the world is diagnosed with cancer and 1.7% of the world die from it. How reliable is the internet, that I do not know, but what I do know is that Mark Tuan Yi-En is part of the 1.7% as of today 5:20AM, five minutes ago.   There was no ugly sobbing, no cries of "Yi-En please don't leave me", no swollen eyes. When Yi-En's eyelids fluttered close, it was serene. The silence in the air as I held his hand during his last moments could be described as peaceful. But for me, it was shock.   The day Yi-En found out about the monster inside of him was our third anniversary. They say third time's the charm, how funny. I had planned out a whole candlelight dinner date for us. I knew something was wrong the second Yi-En didn't appear when the clock hit 7PM. In the years I had known him, he was never late. Not even once. Yi-En was always early, and was even rarely just on time. Unanswered phone calls led me to his doorstep and after finding the spare key he had hidden under the flower pot, I was met with the sight of Yi-En sleeping. His burning forehead implied that he had a fever, and after shaking him lightly, he woke up. The only sentence he had been able to utter was, "Head...hurts...", and his fatigued self told me that he had to see the doctor.   I didn't want to tell Yi-En that he contracted cancer. The pain and tiredness Yi-En originally had felt had been dismissed as his new job taking its toll on him. Never had it occurred to us that there was the possibility of cancer. I didn't want to tell him, but I had to.   "Yi-En. It's cancer."   No tears were shed, I didn't allow myself to