What? Too slow. XD

Although I just posted the first chapter a week ago, the story has been in development since February. It would have been earlier, but the one-shots I posted were my training for revisions, grammar tools, fic plots, and my English translations. This time, I didn't receive criticism on the translation anymore.

I got better, or people just got tired of telling me about it and saw that I didn't listen.

Hugh, I had to use something I don't like to use: an OC! It ended up being a good idea to split the chapter. You'll see that it's different from the previous one since it constantly skips hours and scenes. I hope not to confuse you.

Let's continue with more of this fic. It will be slow, but it will be worth it.


The next morning, Bandit woke up feeling disoriented. He looked around, trying to remember where he had put his slippers. He usually left them by the bed, but that morning they were nowhere to be seen. He got up carefully, trying not to wake Chilli, and started looking around the room.

"Where did I put them?" he muttered to himself, scratching his head. After several minutes of searching unsuccessfully, he decided to go downstairs barefoot. He would find them later.

In the kitchen, Bandit set about preparing breakfast for the family. He wasn't going anywhere without doing something useful for Chilli. He opened the refrigerator, looking for the eggs, but stared inside with a frown. Where were the eggs? He swore he had bought them yesterday.

"Good morning, honey," Chilli said, coming into the kitchen and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "What are you looking for?"

"Eggs... The eggs," Bandit replied, closing the refrigerator door. "I could have sworn I bought them yesterday, but I don't see them anywhere."

Chilli looked at him quizzically. "Bandit, the eggs are on the counter. You took them out just now, remember?"

Bandit turned around, and sure enough, there was the box of eggs. He felt embarrassed and a little confused. "Oh, right. Silly me. Must be that I'm still half asleep."

Chilli patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, it happens to all of us. Do you want me to help you with breakfast?"

"No, no, I can," Bandit insisted, wanting to show that he was perfectly fine. "You go wake up the girls so they can go to school."

"Bandit, the girls aren't going to school today," Chilli replied, watching her husband intently.

Bandit, as she was about to answer, was struck by the memory of last night. "Oh, yes, I remembered. I don't know how I could have forgotten. Go get them, though, so I can say goodbye to them."

Chilli was going upstairs to wake Bluey and Bingo, while Bandit concentrated on getting breakfast ready. However, he found himself looking for utensils in the wrong places several times. Since when did they keep the dishes in the silverware drawer? He shook off the confusion and continued with his task.

As the family sat down to breakfast, Bluey excitedly began to tell them about a school project.

"And we have to do a presentation about a historical place in Australia!" exclaimed the little blue Heeler. "Dad, can you help me? You know a lot of historical places from your work."

Bandit smiled, happy to help. "Of course, sweetie, what place would you like to make your presentation about?"

Bluey thought for a moment. "Oh! How about that place with the big stones in a circle? What was it called?"

Bandit frowned, trying to remember. He knew exactly what place Bluey was referring to; he had visited it dozens of times in his excavations, but for some reason, the name slipped away from his mind.

"Uh... it's that place in England, isn't it?" he said, buying time. "With the big stones..."

"Stonehenge!" exclaimed Chilli, noticing Bandit's difficulty. "Is that the place you mean, Bluey?"

"Yes, that very one!" replied Bluey excitedly. "Can you tell me more about Stonehenge, Dad?"

Bandit nodded, grateful for Chilli's help. "Sure, sweetie. Stonehenge is a very famous prehistoric monument. It was built thousands of years ago and..."

Bandit stopped short. The words that followed seemed to fade away before he could form them. He knew the history of Stonehenge inside out and had taught about the site on numerous occasions, but in that instant, his mind went blank.

Chilli, who had been watching silently, felt a knot in her stomach. This was not simply forgetfulness; there was something deeper going on. She decided to intervene before the situation worsened.

"Did you know, Bluey, that some believe Stonehenge was used as a giant calendar?" Chilli commented, gently taking the floor. "The stones are aligned with the solstices, which means they could predict the changing seasons."

Bluey looked at her mother. "Wow, how did they know that, Mom?"

"It's a mystery," Chilli replied with a forced smile, but without letting go of her concern for Bandit. "But I'm sure that Dad would love to take you there someday to see it for yourself, wouldn't you, Bandit?"

Bandit nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. Relief that Chilli had diverted attention was mixed with a growing fear he couldn't ignore. Something was wrong, and it wasn't just a bad day. As she watched Bluey excitedly engage in conversation, she felt a twinge of fear. What if what was happening to her wasn't passing?

After Bluey went off to play, Chilli approached Bandit, placing a hand on his arm. "Honey, are you okay?" she asked quietly but with a firm tone.

Bandit avoided her gaze, feeling vulnerable. "I don't know, Chilli. I've never had anything like this happen to me before. It's like my mind is... clouded."

Chilli looked at him with a mixture of compassion and concern. "Let's figure it out together, Bandit. We can go to the doctor tomorrow and see what's going on."

"I don't need to go to the doctor; it's just tiredness," Bandit replied as he went to eat.

After breakfast, Bandit got ready to go to work. He was reviewing some important documents for a dig when he realized he couldn't find his keys.

"Chilli?" he called, rummaging through the desk drawers. "Have you seen my keys?"

Chilli appeared in the study doorway. "You left them in the bowl in the entryway, like always. Didn't you see them?"

Bandit ran a hand over his face. "No, I didn't see them. Thanks, honey."

On the way to work, Bandit couldn't help but feel worried. These little instances of forgetfulness and mix-ups were becoming more frequent. He tried to convince himself that it was just stress, and that with so much to think about, it was normal to forget some things.

At the office, Bandit immersed himself in his work, hoping that the familiar routine would help him feel more focused. Soon, however, he found himself struggling with tasks he used to perform without effort.

"Bandit," said his coworker, Mark, peeking into his office. "Do you have the report ready on last month's excavation? The boss needs it for the meeting this afternoon."

Bandit blinked, confused. "The report? Oh, yeah, sure. I was working on that."

He looked at his desk, trying to remember where he'd left the file.

"Where's the report?" Bandit asked himself more desperately. He knew his job depended on finding the report. A wave of worry enveloped him as he felt the sensation that he had blown it.

"Easy, Bandit, we'll find it now," said one of his companions.

After a few moments of frantic searching, he found it under a pile of other documents.

"Here it is," he said, handing it to Mark. "Sorry for the delay."

Mark looked at it with concern. "Are you all right, Bandit? You seem a little distracted lately."

"I'm fine," Bandit insisted, forcing a smile. "Just a little tired. You know how girls are."

Mark nodded, though he didn't look convinced. "If you need anything, just let me know, okay?"

Bandit nodded, grateful for his friend's concern but also uncomfortable with the attention. He didn't want anyone to think he couldn't do his job.

Throughout the day, Bandit found himself struggling with tasks he used to perform effortlessly. The names of archaeological sites he knew like the back of his hand now seemed to slip from his memory. At one meeting, he found himself repeating the same question twice, earning quizzical looks from his colleagues.

When it came time to present his recent findings at a department conference, Bandit felt more nervous than ever before. Normally, these presentations were a piece of cake for him, but today he felt unsure.

He started off well, speaking fluently about the excavation site and the artifacts found. But as he went on, he noticed that he had trouble remembering specific dates and names. He hesitated, searching for the right words.

"And then, in the stratum corresponding to the... to the..." Bandit paused, his mind blank. What was the name of that period? He knew he was sure, but the name simply wouldn't come to his mind.

"The Neolithic period?" a colleague suggested politely from the audience.

"Yes, exactly," Bandit said, feeling embarrassed. "Thank you. As I was saying, in the stratum corresponding to the Neolithic period..."

He continued with the presentation, but he could feel the concerned looks from his colleagues. When he finished, several came up to ask him if he was all right. No one could believe that Bandit Heeler was failing in such a way.

"I'm fine, really," Bandit insisted. "Just a little tired. I've been working a lot lately."

But deep down, Bandit knew something wasn't right. These memory lapses, the confusion, the difficulty concentrating—it all went beyond simple fatigue. Yet the thought of admitting it, of seeking medical help, terrified him. What if it was something serious? How would that affect his family and his work?

That night, back at home, Bandit tried to act normal. He played with the girls, helped Chilli with dinner, and even told one of his famous bedtime stories. But his mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with the day's events.

When he finally lay down next to Chilli, she noticed his restlessness.

"Is everything okay, honey?" she asked, stroking his cheek.

Bandit considered telling her everything, sharing his fears and worries. But seeing the worry in Chilli's eyes, he couldn't do it. He didn't want to be a burden; he didn't want her to worry.

"Everything's fine," he lied, forcing a smile. "I'm just thinking about a complicated project at work."

Chilli kissed him softly. "Don't push yourself too hard, love. You know you're brilliant at what you do."

Bandit nodded, feeling guilty for not being completely honest. But he promised himself he would handle this alone. He had to be strong for his family.

Chilli walked over to him. "You know the girls are asleep," she said as she petted him and pulled the sheets up over them.

The next few days were a constant challenge for Bandit. At work, he found himself more and more often losing his train of thought or searching for words that used to come to him naturally. His work colleagues began to notice these changes, exchanging worried glances when they thought he didn't see them.

One afternoon, while looking over some newly unearthed artifacts, Bandit stared at a stone tool. He knew it was important, that it had a specific name, but try as he might, he couldn't remember it.

"Hey, Mark," he called to his coworker, trying to sound casual. "What's this tool called again? I forgot the name."

Mark walked over and looked at the object. "It's a scraper, Bandit. They used it for working hides and wood."

"Sure, a scraper," Bandit repeated, feeling silly. How could he have forgotten something so basic?

At home, things weren't much better. Bandit found himself increasingly confused about daily routines. One night, while helping Bluey with his homework, he realized he couldn't remember how to solve a simple math problem.

"Dad," Bluey said, looking at him curiously. "Are you sure that's the way to do it? It doesn't seem right."

Bandit looked at the worksheet, feeling a surge of panic. The numbers seemed to dance in front of his eyes, refusing to make sense.

"Hey, maybe we should ask Mom," he suggested, trying to hide his confusion. "Sometimes she's better at these things."

Bluey nodded, though Bandit could see the concern in her eyes. His oldest daughter was perceptive, and he feared she was beginning to notice that something wasn't right with her father. Though she decided not to ask him directly, as she trusted him to tell them if something was wrong.

One morning, while getting ready for work, Bandit couldn't find his briefcase. He searched all over the house, growing increasingly frustrated and anxious.

"Chilli!" he called, his voice tinged with despair. "Have you seen my briefcase? I can't find it anywhere."

Chilli appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding the briefcase in question. "It's right here, honey. You left it in the kitchen last night, remember?"

Bandit took the briefcase, feeling embarrassed and confused. He had no recollection of leaving it there.

"Thanks," he mumbled, avoiding his wife's concerned look.

Bandit felt a pang of guilt. He knew Chilli cared about him and that she just wanted to help. But the thought of admitting something was wrong, of showing weakness, was unbearable to him.

"I'm fine, really," he insisted, forcing a smile. "I've just been a little stressed with work. You know how these things are."

Chilli didn't look convinced but didn't press further. "It's okay, honey. But you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Bandit nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. He wanted to tell her everything, to share his worries. But the fear of the unknown, of what these symptoms might mean, kept him silent.

At work, things kept getting worse. Bandit found himself losing his train of thought more and more often in the middle of meetings or staring at his computer screen, unable to remember what he was doing.

One day, while giving a talk to a group of students on excavation techniques, Bandit went blank mid-sentence. The students looked at him expectantly, but the words just wouldn't come.

"And then... then..." he stammered, feeling panic set in. "I'm sorry, where was I?"

A student in the front row timidly raised his hand. "You were talking about stratigraphic techniques, professor."

"Ah, yes, of course," Bandit said, trying to compose himself. "Thank you. As I was saying..."

He continued with the talk, but he could feel the confused and concerned looks on the students' faces. "Shit, I can't go on, but if I stop, there will be no one to replace me," Bandit thought as he continued to explain the topic. He could only wait to finish his speech and pray to God that he didn't forget another important part of the lesson. After all, he didn't want the students to fail because of him.

When he finished, he hurried out of the room, feeling humiliated and scared.

In his office, Bandit sat heavily in his chair, his head in his hands. He could no longer deny it; something was very wrong. These were not simple moments of forgetfulness or distraction. It was something more serious, something that was affecting his ability to do his job and to be the father and husband his family deserved.

For a moment, he considered calling his doctor and making an appointment for a checkup. But fear of what he might discover paralyzed him.

Bandit took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I can't let this beat me," he told himself. "I have to be strong for Chilli and the girls."

With his determination renewed, Bandit immersed himself in his work. He spent hours going over his notes, memorizing facts and dates he once knew by heart. He stayed late in the office, reviewing his reports to make sure there were no mistakes.

But despite his best efforts, the problems persisted.

One afternoon, while presenting his findings at a major archaeological conference, Bandit found himself struggling to remember the names of sites he had recently excavated.

"And at the site of... of..." Bandit paused, his mind a blank. He could see the site clearly in his mind and remembered every detail of the dig, but the name just wouldn't come. The silence in the room grew heavy as his colleagues waited expectantly.

"You mean the Willunga site?" a colleague suggested politely from the audience.

"Yes, exactly," Bandit said, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment. "Thank you. As I was saying, at the Willunga site..."

He continued with his presentation, but he could feel the concerned looks on the faces of his colleagues. When he finished, several approached him to ask if he was okay.

"I'm fine, really," Bandit insisted, forcing a smile. "Just a little tired. I've been working a lot lately."

But deep down, Bandit knew he wasn't fine. These lapses of memory, the confusion, and the difficulty concentrating—it all went beyond simple tiredness. Yet the thought of admitting it, of seeking medical help, terrified him. What if it was serious? How would that affect his family and his work?

At home, Bandit strove to maintain a facade of normalcy. He played with the girls, helped with household chores, and tried to be the husband and father he had always been. But he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up with family life.

One night, as he was helping Bingo get ready for bed, the little girl asked him to tell her his favorite story.

"Please, Father," Bingo begged with sparkling eyes. "Tell me the story of Knight Bandit and Princess Chilli."

Bandit smiled, remembering how much Bingo loved that story. He began to narrate, but as he went on, he realized he couldn't remember important parts of the story. And that was a bad thing. Technically, it was his and Chilli's love story.

"And then, Knight Bandit confronted the... the... the..." Bandit paused, his mind blank. What was the name of the villain in the story?

Bingo looked at him curiously. "The Shadow Dragon, Dad? You always say it's the Shadow Dragon."

"Sure, the Shadow Dragon," Bandit repeated, feeling a pang of sadness. How had he ever forgotten that? "Thanks, honey. As I was saying..."

Bingo was small, but she was very mature for her age. She had noticed over the past few weeks that something wasn't right with her dad. She knew that her whole family was aware, but none of them had the courage to ask him. They were all hoping that he would share everything that was going on in his mind.

Bandit continued the story, doing his best to remember the details, but his mind kept wandering. Bingo, observant as always, noticed her father's difficulty.

"Dad," she interrupted softly, "are you okay? You seem... different lately."

Bandit tensed for a moment but quickly forced a smile. "Different? What do you mean, honey?"

Bingo wrinkled her small forehead thoughtfully. "I don't know... sometimes you seem to forget things. And you look tired all the time."

Bandit's heart raced. She didn't want to worry her daughter, but she didn't want to lie to her directly either. He opted to deflect the conversation.

"Oh, you know what? I think it's because I've been working so much lately," she said, feigning a light tone. "How about tomorrow we play that new game you invented? What was it called...?"

"The hotel!" exclaimed Bingo, momentarily distracted. "We'll really play?"

"Of course," nodded Bandit, relieved at the change of subject. "But now, it's time for bed. Tomorrow will be a big game day."

He kissed Bingo on the forehead and got up to turn out the light. But before he could leave, Bingo's voice stopped him.

"Dad... you know you can tell me anything, right? I'm little, but I can understand you."

Bandit felt a lump in his throat. He turned to his daughter, touched by her maturity and concern.

"I know, honey. You're so smart and brave. I promise if there's anything important you need to know, I'll tell you. For now, I just need you to be my sweet Bingo, and let's keep playing and having fun together, okay?"

Bingo nodded, not entirely convinced but willing to trust her father. "Okay, Dad. I love you."

"I love you too, my little girl," Bandit replied, gently closing the door.

In the hallway, he leaned against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. He hated having to evade Bingo's questions, but how could he explain to him what was going on when even he didn't fully understand? For now, the best he could do was remain the father his daughters knew and loved for as long as possible.

With a sigh, Bandit straightened up and headed for his room, where Chilli was waiting for him. That night, lying next to Chilli, Bandit couldn't sleep. His mind was spinning, going over all the moments of confusion and forgetfulness from the past few weeks. He knew he couldn't go on like this, that something had to change. But the fear of facing the truth paralyzed him.

"Bandit?" Chilli's soft voice brought him out of his thoughts. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," he answered softly.

Chilli turned to look at him in the darkness. "What's the matter, sweetheart? You've been very restless lately."

Bandit considered, for a moment, telling her everything. But seeing the concern in Chilli's eyes, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't want to be a burden; he didn't want her to worry.

"It's nothing," he lied, forcing a smile he knew she couldn't see in the dark. "I'm just thinking about a complicated project at work."

Chilli hugged him, resting her head on his chest. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right? We're in this together, no matter what."

Bandit felt a lump in his throat. "I know," he said, hugging her tightly. "I love you, Chilli."

"I love you too," she replied, kissing him softly before settling back to sleep.

Bandit lay awake long after Chilli fell asleep, staring at the ceiling in the dark. He knew he couldn't go on like this, that something had to change. But the idea of admitting he needed help, of showing weakness, went against everything he believed about being a good father and husband.

With that determination, Bandit finally drifted off to sleep, resolved to face whatever came with all the strength he could muster. But in the back of his mind, a small voice whispered to him that maybe, just maybe, being strong also meant asking for help when he needed it.

The next morning, Bandit awoke feeling disoriented. For a moment, he didn't recognize the room he was in. Panic briefly overtook him until familiar details began to take shape: the curtains Chilli had chosen, the family photos on the wall, and the smell of coffee wafting in from the kitchen.

He got up slowly, trying to shake off the confusion. In the bathroom, as he brushed his teeth, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced than ever, and there was an expression of constant worry that he didn't remember seeing on his face before.

"Come on, Bandit," he said to himself. "You've got to stand your ground."

He went down to the kitchen, where Chilli was already preparing breakfast for the girls. Bluey and Bingo were chatting animatedly about their plans for the day.

"Good morning, Daddy," Bluey said cheerfully. "Are you taking us to the park today after work?"

Bandit blinked, trying to remember if he had made that promise. "Uh... yeah, sure," he said, though he wasn't sure. "If I finish up early at work."

Chilli shot him a curious look. "Honey, don't you remember? Today's Saturday. You don't have to go to work."

Bandit felt the ground shift under his feet. How had he forgotten what day it was? "Oh, right," he said, trying to sound casual. "Sorry, I'm still half asleep."

Breakfast passed normally, but Bandit noticed that Chilli was watching him more closely than usual. He tried to act normal, joining in the conversation and laughing at the girls' antics, but inside, fear and confusion were growing.

After breakfast, while Chilli cleaned up the kitchen, Bandit decided to take the girls to the park as promised. He thought the fresh air and physical activity might help him clear his mind.

At the park, Bluey and Bingo ran to the swings, laughing and screaming with excitement. Bandit followed them, determined to enjoy this time with his daughters.

"Push me, Daddy!" shouted Bingo from the swing.

Bandit reached over and began gently nudging his youngest daughter. The familiar rhythm of the swing, the sound of Bingo's laughter—everything seemed normal. For a moment, Bandit felt that everything would be fine.

But then, as he pushed Bingo, a sudden dizziness came over him. The park around him seemed to spin, and for a moment, he didn't know where he was or what he was doing.

"Dad?" Bluey's concerned voice brought him back to reality. "Are you okay?"

Bandit blinked, trying to focus. Bingo had stopped laughing and was watching him worriedly from the swing.

"I'm fine, honey," he said, forcing a smile. "I just got a little dizzy. It must be that I didn't get enough breakfast."

But Bluey didn't look convinced. "Dad, you've been acting funny lately—are you sure you're okay?"

The concern in his eldest daughter's voice was like a dagger in Bandit's heart. He realized that, despite his efforts to hide it, his problems were affecting his daughters.

"I'm fine, really," he insisted, bending down to be at Bluey's eye level. "I've just been a little tired with work. But you don't have to worry about me, okay?"

Bluey nodded, though she didn't look completely convinced. Bandit straightened up, determined not to let this incident ruin his daughters' day.

"How about we go to the slides?" he suggested, trying to sound cheerful. Fortunately, Mackenzie wasn't there, so they could go play on the slide.

The girls eagerly agreed, and soon they were running toward the playground. Bandit followed them, but his mind was elsewhere. The motion sickness incident had scared him more than he wanted to admit. What if something had happened to him while he was pushing Bingo on the swing? What if he had put his daughters in danger?

As he watched Bluey and Bingo play, Bandit realized he could no longer ignore his problems. It wasn't just about him now; his condition was affecting his entire family.

Back at home, after a leisurely lunch, Bandit excused himself, saying he needed to get some rest. He retreated to his study, closing the door behind him. He sat back in his chair, staring at his computer's blacked-out screen.

He knew what he had to do, but fear paralyzed him. What if the doctors found something really wrong? What if he couldn't continue working? How would he take care of his family?

But then he remembered the worry in Bluey's eyes in the park and Bingo's confusion when he couldn't remember the details of his favorite story. He recalled all the times Chilli had looked at him with concern over the past few weeks.

With trembling hands, Bandit picked up his phone and dialed his doctor's number. As he waited for them to answer, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Dr. Thompson's office, how may I help you?" a friendly voice answered on the other end of the line.

Bandit swallowed saliva, summoning all his courage. "Hello, this is Bandit Heeler. I need to make an appointment with Dr. Thompson. It's... it's urgent."

Bandit hung up the phone after scheduling the appointment with Dr. Thompson for the following week. He sat in silence for several minutes, contemplating the decision he had just made. Part of him was relieved that he had finally taken this step, but another part was terrified of what he might discover.

He got up and walked to his study window, looking out at the garden where Bluey and Bingo were playing happily under Chilli's supervision. Seeing them like this, so carefree and happy, made Bandit's heart shrink. How could he even consider the possibility of not being there for them in the future?

"No," he said quietly to himself. "I can't think like that. I have to be strong for them."

But even as he said these words to himself, a voice in the back of his mind whispered to him that maybe being strong didn't mean facing everything alone. Maybe being strong meant admitting he needed help.

Bandit shook his head, trying to push these thoughts away. He decided to join his family in the garden, determined to enjoy the rest of the day without worry.

"Daddy!" cried Bingo excitedly when she saw him come out. "Come play with us!"

Bandit smiled, feeling the weight in his chest lighten a little. "Here I come, pumpkin!" he replied, running toward his daughters.

For the next few hours, Bandit immersed himself in play, letting his daughters' laughter temporarily drown out his worries. They played hide-and-seek, built a fort out of cardboard boxes, and even improvised a little play in the backyard.

As he acted as a fierce dragon chasing the "brave knights," Bandit realized how much he had missed these carefree moments. In the past few weeks, even when playing with the girls, a part of his mind had always been distracted, preoccupied with his memory lapses and confusion.

As the sun began to set, Chilli called everyone in for dinner. As they washed their hands, Bluey looked at her father with a bright smile.

"That was so much fun, Dad!" she exclaimed. "It's been a long time since we've played like that."

Bandit felt a pang of guilt as he realized that his daughters had noticed his estrangement. "You're right, honey," he said, bending down to be at her level. "I'm sorry if I've been a little distracted lately. But I promise we'll play like this more often, okay?"

Bluey nodded enthusiastically and gave him a tight hug before running into the kitchen. Bandit lingered a moment longer in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. He saw the tiredness in his eyes, but he also saw determination. No matter what, he promised himself that he would fight with all his might for these moments with his family.

During dinner, Bandit made an effort to stay present and engaged in the family conversation. He listened intently as Bluey talked about her school project and Bingo described the drawing he had done of Lila that day.

Chilli watched with a mixture of relief and curiosity. She could see that her husband was making a conscious effort to be more present, and while she was glad for that, she couldn't help but wonder what had brought about this sudden change.

After putting the girls to bed, Bandit and Chilli sat on the living room couch, enjoying a quiet moment. Chilli curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"It's been a good day," she commented softly.

Bandit nodded, hugging her tighter. "Yes, it has."

There was a moment of silence before Chilli spoke again. "Bandit, is there something you want to talk about?"

Bandit felt his heart racing. Part of him wanted to tell Chilli everything right then: his fears, his worries, and the doctor's appointment he had scheduled. But another part, the part that had always been the strong pillar of the family, resisted.

"It's nothing important," he finally said, hating himself a little for not being completely honest. "I've just been thinking about how lucky I am to have all of you."

Chilli looked at him, and for a moment, Bandit feared she could see through his facade. But she simply smiled and kissed him softly. "We're lucky to have you, too."

That night, lying in bed, Bandit couldn't sleep. His mind was spinning, going over the day's events and anticipating the upcoming doctor's appointment. He wondered if he should have been honest with Chilli, if he should have told her about his concerns.

"It's to protect her," he told himself. "There's no point in worrying her until I know for sure what's going on."

But even as he spoke these words to himself, a part of him knew he was being unfair. Chilli was his partner, his equal. They had faced many challenges together over the years; why should this one be any different?

The next few days passed in a sort of haze for Bandit. At work, he struggled to stay focused, checking his notes obsessively to make sure he wasn't making mistakes. At home, he tried to be more present with his family, playing with the girls and helping Chilli with household chores.

But as the day of her doctor's appointment approached, Bandit felt his anxiety rising. He began having trouble sleeping, spending hours tossing and turning in bed, imagining worst-case scenarios.

One night, unable to fall asleep, Bandit quietly got up and went downstairs to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and sat in the dark, trying to calm his restless mind.

"Dad?"

Bluey's soft voice startled him. He turned to see his oldest daughter standing in the kitchen doorway, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"Hey, honey," Bandit said softly. "What are you doing awake?"

Bluey came over and sat down next to him at the table. "I heard a noise and came to see what it was. Why are you awake, Daddy?"

Bandit considered making up an excuse, but as he looked into his daughter's worried eyes, he felt he couldn't lie to her.

"I was just thinking, honey," he said softly. "Sometimes grown-ups have a lot on their minds, and it's hard to sleep."

Bluey nodded earnestly. "Is that why you've been acting different lately?"

Bandit felt a lump in his throat. Had it been that obvious?

"Yeah, I guess so," he admitted. "I'm sorry if I've worried you, Bluey."

Bluey reached out her little hand and placed it over her father's. "It's all right, Daddy. We all worry sometimes. But remember what you always tell Bingo and me: when we're worried, we should talk to someone who loves us."

Bandit felt tears welling up in his eyes. His daughter's simple but profound wisdom hit him hard.

"You're right, honey," he said, hugging Bluey. "You're so smart; you know that?"

Bluey smiled and hugged him back. "I learned from the best."

After carrying Bluey back to bed, Bandit returned to his room with a new resolve. His daughter was right: he could no longer face this alone. He needed to share his worries with Chilli.

The next morning, while the girls were eating breakfast, Bandit asked Chilli if they could talk privately. In the den, with the door closed, Bandit finally opened up to his wife.

"Chilli," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "I've been having some problems lately. Memory problems, confusion... And I'm scared."

Chilli listened quietly as Bandit told her everything. The forgetfulness at work, the moments of disorientation, the fear she felt for what it might mean. She told him about the doctor's appointment she had scheduled and how she had been struggling with whether or not to tell him.

When he finished, Chilli hugged him tightly. "Oh, Bandit," she said softly. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to worry you," Bandit admitted. "I wanted to be strong for you and the girls."

Chilli pulled back a little to look him in the eye. "Bandit, being strong doesn't mean facing everything alone. We're a family, remember? Through thick and thin. Till death did us part."

Bandit nodded, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "I know. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," Chilli said. "But from now on, no hiding your farts with me. okay?"

Bandit nodded, feeling grateful to have Chilli by his side. "Okay."

The days leading up to the doctor's appointment were easier to cope with now that Chilli was aware of the situation. She supported him at work, helping him organize his notes and reminding him of important appointments. At home, she made sure he had time to rest and kept the girls busy when Bandit needed some quiet time.

Finally, the day of the appointment arrived. Bandit sat in the waiting room of Dr. Thompson's office, her hands intertwined with Chilli's. Despite his nervousness, he felt stronger knowing he wasn't alone.

"Mr. Heeler?" the nurse called. "The doctor will see you now."

Bandit stood up, taking a deep breath. Chilli gave his hand a comforting squeeze. She couldn't believe she'd accompanied him to the doctor's appointment. Hope was one of the most stressful things he had to do. Probably the main reason he didn't want to go to the doctor in the first place. However his wife's company made the wait much less stressful.

"I'll be here when you get out," she said with an encouraging smile.

Bandit nodded and followed the nurse into the office. Dr. Thompson, a kindly-looking older man, greeted him with a smile.

"Bandit, how are you, it's been a while since your last checkup."

Bandit sat up, suddenly feeling nervous. "I'm... well, actually, I'm not sure how I am, doctor. That's why I'm here."

For the next hour, Bandit told Dr. Thompson everything he had been experiencing. The doctor listened attentively, asking occasional questions and taking notes.

"I understand this must be very troubling for you, Bandit," Dr. Thompson said when Bandit finished. "We're going to run some tests to try to determine what is causing these symptoms. It could be something as simple as stress or lack of sleep, or it could be something more serious. But the important thing is that you're here, seeking help. That's the first step."

Bandit nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. "What kind of tests will they be, doctor?"

"We'll start with some blood work and an MRI," Dr. Thompson explained. "I'm also going to refer you to a neurologist for further evaluation. It may seem overwhelming, but I assure you we are being thorough so we can give you the best care possible."

After scheduling tests and receiving some preliminary recommendations, Bandit left the office feeling exhausted but a little more hopeful. Chilli immediately stood up at the sight of him.

"How did it go?" she asked, searching his face for some sign.

Bandit told her everything the doctor had said as they walked to the car. Chilli listened intently, asking occasional questions and offering words of support.

"Well, at least now we have a plan," Chilli said when Bandit finished. "And whatever happens, you'll get better."

Bandit nodded, feeling grateful once again to have Chilli by his side. "For you, I will," he repeated.

Over the next few days, Bandit underwent the tests Dr. Thompson had ordered. Waiting for the results was agonizing, but Bandit was surprised to find that sharing his worries with Chilli and, to some extent, the girls made everything more bearable.