Mike heard the muffled sound of frustration through the closed bedroom door. As he opened it, he saw you sitting on the edge of your bed, your face a mix of irritation and embarrassment. The cast on your leg and the bandage on your wrist from your recent basketball game accident only added to your visible discomfort.

He approached you with a soft, reassuring smile, despite the knot of unease in his stomach. You’d been struggling since your accident, and now this added challenge of being unable to bathe properly was clearly taking its toll on you.

“Alright, let’s get you sorted,” Mike said, helping you carefully off the bed. He supported you gently as you hobbled to the bathroom, avoiding putting weight on your injured leg. The bathroom was modest but clean, with a small tub and a few bottles of bath products haphazardly arranged on the counter.

Mike turned on the faucet, adjusting the water to a warm, comfortable temperature. The sound of the running water filled the quiet space, and he took a moment to steady himself, mentally preparing for what he knew would be a delicate and somewhat awkward task.

He turned to you with a calming tone. “Let’s get you in. I’ll take care of everything.”

He helped you out of your clothes with care, trying to avoid making the situation more uncomfortable than it already was. His movements were careful and measured as he guided you into the tub. The warm water seemed to offer a slight sense of relief, and Mike tried to maintain a neutral, supportive demeanor despite the inherent awkwardness of the situation.

As he gently helped you into the tub, Mike said, “I know neither of us expected to spend our Friday night like this, but we’ll get through it. Remember how you used to love bath time when you were little? Maybe it’ll bring back some of those old memories.”

He gave you a reassuring smile, trying to ease the discomfort of the situation with a touch of nostalgia.