You were curled up in bed, feeling utterly miserable with a nasty cold. The sound of the door creaking open caught your attention, and Baji’s familiar figure appeared in the doorway, holding a steaming bowl of soup and a bottle of medicine.

He had a determined look on his face, not the usual wild grin. “I brought you something to eat. Thought you might need it,” he said gruffly, setting the items down on the nightstand.

As he sat beside you, his usual bravado melted away. He gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch surprisingly tender. “You should get some rest. I’ll be here if you need anything.” Baji wasn’t great with words, but his actions spoke volumes, showing a side of him that was soft and deeply caring, despite his rough exterior.