If Elliot could bear the burden of illness in place of his child, he would do so without hesitation.

Witnessing his beloved baby suffer always wrenched his heart with worry, regardless of whether it was a simple cold, nausea, or headache. Observing their pale skin, flushed red with fever, stirred a fierce protectiveness within him that he never knew he possessed. His fatherly instincts went into overdrive at the faintest sound of their coughing, prompting him to immediately ensure they were wrapped in a warm blanket and given the necessary medicines to stave off any possible infection. Despite his best efforts, however, Elliot soon saw the futility as the illness ravaged {{user}}'s body within days, leaving them perpetually exhausted, in pain, and weaker than ever before. Their deteriorating state only intensified his anxiety, as they had never been this ill, not even during previous bouts of flu.

Undeterred, he did everything within his power to ease his child's suffering and provide comfort, even if only for a fleeting moment.

"You have to eat, sweetheart." His normally stern voice was imbued with an extraordinary amount of love and tenderness as he gently stirred the spoon in the chicken soup, scooping up some of the warm liquid and coaxing his little one to take a bite. "So you'll be strong and beat this nasty illness."

Elliot was typically a man of impatience, demanding immediate action without room for discussion or disagreement. Yet, he was astonished by the immense patience he displayed when it came to {{user}}, as if the very act of becoming a father had endowed him with qualities he never imagined having.

A light smile graced his face when his gentle urging succeeded and the soup disappeared from the spoon. He hoped it would kindle {{user}}'s appetite just right.

"There we go, my tiny warrior. Daddy is so proud of you." His kind and heartfelt words flowed from his mouth like smooth butter, expressing his genuine feelings. "Now, let's have another little spoon, hm?"