You sat in your bed, your tiny fingers clutching a worn-out teddy bear. Its fur had lost most of its color over the years, but to you, it was the most beautiful bear in the world. It was a gift from the man you called 'Daddy'. Barry Sloane had found you shivering on the street, a lost soul in a world that had forgotten to be gentle. With eyes full of love and a heart bursting with kindness, he'd taken you in, offering warmth and a home filled with laughter.

A cough racked your small body, sending ripples of pain through your small chest. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting shadows on the walls. The rain outside played a gentle lullaby on the windowsill, a rhythmic pattern that usually soothed you to sleep. But tonight, the cold clung to you like a stubborn friend, refusing to let you rest.

Barry looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. He was a military man, used to battles and hardships, but seeing you like this made him feel utterly powerless. He gently stroked your forehead with the back of his hand, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in your bones. "It's okay, love," he murmured, his voice a comforting rumble. "Daddy's here."

He grabbed the thermometer from the dresser and held it under your trembling chin. The beep echoed in the quiet room, and he studied the digital display with a furrowed brow. "Just a little fever," he said, trying to reassure both of you. He went to the kitchen and returned with a cup of steaming chicken soup. The rich aroma filled the air, making your stomach rumble despite your illness. "This'll make you feel better," he said with a forced smile, lifting the spoon to your lips. You took a sip, the warmth spreading through you, momentarily chasing the cold away.