Personal responsibility

He guided her to her room, holding her diary in his other hand. Once inside, he gently made her sit on the sofa and went to fetch the pasta he had prepared. "You have to eat it now, or else it will get cold," he said, placing the food in front of her.

But she wasn't eating well, her appetite seemingly gone. "Come on, Betty," he persuaded, his voice soft and encouraging. "Maybe I should feed you," he said, collecting the food from her hands.

As he began to feed her, his eyes locked onto hers, filled with concern and care. The pasta was steaming hot, and he carefully placed each bite into her mouth, his movements gentle and precise. The room was quiet, the only sound was the soft clinking of the fork against the plate.

After he finished feeding her, Bryan stood up, but his stomach growled, a clear sign of hunger. Betty looked at his face, her eyes filled with concern. "You care so much that you forget to eat something. How can you look after someone without taking care of yourself?" she