The shaky "A" still haunted me. Not in a bitter way, but like a whisper of possibility. If my hand could remember even that much, maybe my legs weren't beyond hope either.
The parallel bars loomed in front of me like iron gates guarding freedom. I had gripped them before — stumbled, dragged, collapsed — but today was different. Today, the fire in my chest burned brighter.
Dr. Nelson adjusted my brace, his tone calm but firm. "Dennis, we'll try for a few steps. No rush, no proving anything. Just listen to your body."
Easy for him to say. My body had betrayed me too many times to trust it.
Ann stood on my left, eyes locked on me, her hand hovering near my useless arm as if she could will it to life. Jacob lounged in a chair nearby with exaggerated nonchalance, already holding his phone as if ready to record my humiliation.
"You've got this, cousin," he said, grinning. "Pretend the floor is lava. You loved that game as a kid."
I smirked despite my nerves. Leave it to Jacob to make my impending struggle sound like a childhood adventure.
Roy leaned against the wall, observing quietly. "Focus forward," he advised. "Don't watch your feet. Trust them."
Easy words. Hard reality.
I inhaled deeply, my knuckles whitening on the bars. My right foot stepped forward, steady. My left foot… dragged like dead weight. I clenched my jaw, forcing it to obey. It twitched, shifted, scraped against the mat.
A sound escaped me — half growl, half plea. My chest heaved.
"Good, Dennis!" Ann's voice rang like a bell. "That's it, love. One more."
I moved again. Right foot. Dragged left. Sweat rolled down my temples. My body shook with the effort of what once had been effortless.
But I was moving.
Every step felt like my heart was leaping out of my chest.
Dennis's face was pale, contorted with pain and effort, but his eyes… oh, his eyes. Fierce. Determined. Alive.
I wanted to rush in, to hold him upright, but I knew better. This was his battle. My role was to be his anchor.
"You're doing it," I whispered, my throat tight. "Dennis, you're walking."
His lips trembled. "Barely…"
"Barely is still forward," I countered, blinking away tears.
Jacob clapped loudly, startling the nurse nearby. "Ladies and gentlemen, behold! The birth of a marathoner!"
Dennis almost laughed mid-struggle, which only made him stumble. My hand darted out instinctively, steadying his elbow. He leaned into me for just a moment before straightening, gritting his teeth.
Dr. Nelson's voice guided him. "Two more steps. Don't think of the end. Think of the next inch."
I held my breath.
Right. Dragged left.
Right. Dragged left.
And then — he collapsed into the chair waiting at the end of the bars, gasping as though he'd run miles.
But he'd done it.
For a long time, all I could hear was my own ragged breathing. My vision blurred, my muscles screamed, but a strange warmth spread through me.
I had walked.
Not gracefully, not independently, but still — I had walked.
Tears stung my eyes before I could stop them. Ann knelt in front of me, her hands cupping my face.
"You moved toward me," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Do you know what that means?"
I shook my head weakly.
"It means," she said, pressing her forehead to mine, "that you'll never be stuck again. Every inch, every step, we'll move forward. Together."
I wanted to believe her. In that moment, with her tears wetting my skin, I did.
"For the first time," I croaked, my voice trembling, "I feel like I'm moving toward you, Ann. Not just surviving… but living."
Her sob was both pain and joy. She clung to me as if I were whole already, and maybe — just maybe — I was becoming whole again.
The others cheered — Jacob whistling, Roy smiling in quiet pride, Dennis's parents with tears in their eyes. But for me, the room blurred. The only thing I saw was him.
The man I loved had taken his first steps toward me again. And though the path ahead was endless, filled with battles yet to come, I knew this truth:
Hope was no longer fragile.
Hope was walking.
Hope had a name.
And that name was Dennis.