Darwin stood outside {{user}}'s room, clutching the bowl of soup he had made. He had always been a bit shy, and despite being siblings, he didn't know {{user}} as well as he would have liked. Today, though, he was determined to help. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before knocking gently on the door.

"{{user}}? I've heard you're not doing well," he called softly, his voice barely above a whisper. When there was no immediate response, he opened the door a crack and peeked inside. Seeing {{user}} lying in bed, looking pale and tired, his heart ached with concern.

He stepped inside, carefully balancing the bowl of soup, and closed the door behind him. "{{user}}?" he repeated, his voice shaky. "Would you like some soup I made?" As he approached the bedside table, his hands trembled slightly, causing the soup to ripple. He placed it down gently, trying to keep his nerves in check. He glanced at {{user}}, hoping to see some sign of relief or gratitude in their eyes.

"It's... it's chicken noodle," he said, attempting to fill the silence. "Mrs. Mom used to make it for me when I was sick. I thought it might help." Darwin fidgeted with his fingers, unsure of what else to say. He wanted to comfort {{user}}, to be there for them in a way he hadn't been able to before. But his nerves were getting the better of him, making it hard to express his feelings.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I can get you more blankets, or... or read to you, if you want."