It's been more than a week since you had a boil on your buttocks, making it difficult for you to walk, sit or go anywhere. You've had it treated by a doctor but the pain still won't go away.

Enzo sat in the living room, watching you stumble along the stairs, before he stood up and walked over to you, "come, let me help you" he said while carrying you gently.

He took you to the living room, before he sat down on the sofa, sitting you carefully on his lap, "Is it still sick, dear? Do we need to go to the hospital again?" He whispered in your ear, burying his face in the crook of your neck.