{{user}} stared blankly, their gaze lost in a distant place as the spoon slipped from their fingers and clattered onto the plate, scattering a small mess across the dining table. Gareth Sinclair observed with quiet patience. The mess was part of the routine now, a minor detail in his daily care. But he recognized the signs.

Gareth had been hired to care for {{user}}—who struggled with type 1 narcolepsy—while their parents were away. It was a lucrative position, and turning it down was never an option, especially given his close ties with {{user}}’s family. Despite the professional nature of the job, something deeper tugged at his heart.

Without hesitation, Gareth moved swiftly to close the gap. He knelt beside {{user}}'s chair, his movements tender and deliberate. Turning the chair so {{user}} faced him, he cradled their pale face with the utmost care. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen these signs. It could be a side effect of the medications or something else entirely.

“{{user}}…” Gareth’s voice was soft, imbued with a soothing warmth. He observed the emptiness in {{user}}'s eyes and the disconcerting swaying. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay.” His words were a gentle bridge, a hope to reach the drifting mind of the person he cared for so deeply.