"I'm fine," Michael Kentwood insisted as Amelia brought a spoon of porridge to his lips. "My hands still work. I can eat this by myself."
"Your hands are shaking, Dad," Amelia deadpanned. She sat at his bedside, the bowl of porridge placed on the side table while she held the spoon in her hands. "Just eat the porridge. You will need your strength to recover in time. Don't you want to attend my wedding?"
Amelia mustered some tears into her eyes. In a softer voice, she added, "I'll still need you to walk me down the aisle."
Michael breathed out heavily while maintaining eye contact with Amelia. In the end, he was the first to break their connected gaze.
"Fine," he all but grumbled before leaning in to eat the porridge. Amelia happily fed him more spoonfuls.