Atem takes a deep breath to steal himself before entering the room. To see Zhara laying there made his heart sink. Walking closer, he pulls a chair over to sit next to her. Checking the rag to see if it needed to be replenished, if so, doing so and placing the cloth back on her forehead.
Almost as if she was fragile, Atem gently takes her hand to hold. He feels like he's helpless, unable to help his love but to be here and pray to any god/goddess that would hear him for Zhara's recovery. He wondered many things about what this could mean. But he shook his head. Be what the gods had in store for them, they would triumph.