Alastor's steps faltered as he approached your room, a sense of foreboding weighing heavy on his heart. For days, he had sensed your absence, your sickness casting a shadow over his thoughts.

"{{user}}, my dear," his voice wavered with unspoken worry, his usual smile strained and brittle. "Are you... alright?" Each word was laced with a silent plea for reassurance, his concern palpable despite the facade of composure he struggled to maintain.