The laughter of children echoed through the neighborhood.
Drawn by the sound, Hope slowly wheeled herself to her bedroom balcony, her gaze drifting from one child to another. Each glance carried a quiet sadness, a longing she could not hide.
"Hope! Breakfast is ready!" her mother called from inside.
"I'm coming, Mom," she replied softly.
Her fingers grazed the wheels of her chair, and for a fleeting moment, she imagined running—laughing, playing, being just like them. But the moment vanished, leaving only an ache in her chest.
Lucy, her small cat, rested on her lap. Gently, Hope lifted her onto the chair and wheeled toward the breakfast table.
At the table sat her family: her father, Mark; her mother, Nancy; and her older brother, Tom. On the table lay yesterday's bread and a small pot of tea.
Mark's eyes fell on Lucy, cold and sharp.
"When are you going to get rid of that damn cat?" he asked, voice hard. "We can barely feed ourselves. How do you expect us to feed her?"
Tom smirked cruelly.
"You're right, Father… it's already enough that we are taking care of—"
"Tom! Enough. Eat quietly," Nancy interrupted sharply.
Hope sighed and lowered her gaze. Tom was insufferable. Her father was cruel and merciless. Only her mother… and Lucy… were her happiness.
Nancy picked up a piece of bread from the plate and offered it to Lucy.
"Eat, Lucy… good cat," she said softly.
Mark and Tom exchanged glances, then rose from the table, heading toward the door.
"We want dinner tonight. Handle it," Mark said before leaving.
SLAM.
The door shut hard behind them.
Hope carried her plate to the kitchen to wash it, Lucy following with soft, quick steps.
"Hope," her mother asked gently, "what will you write today?"
Hope looked up at her with calm, steady eyes.
"I'll write about how amazing you are, Mom."
With that, she wheeled herself back to her room.
Hope's room was warm, cozy, and full of light. Her bed stood in the center, and across from it was a desk that faced the window—without a chair. Toys and dolls filled the room, kept safe since childhood. The walls were covered in her drawings, colorful and full of life.
In one corner was her favorite spot, "Lucy and Hope's Dream Sofa." Here, she would lie with Lucy every day, sinking into her dreams and wishes.
Her family had once been wealthy, before her father lost his job. Life hadn't gone as planned, and now the only thing they had left was their beloved home.
Hope moved quietly to her desk, Lucy following in soft steps. She stole a glance outside at the children playing again. She didn't know their names, so she gave each one a name of her own.
Andy was her favorite. Handsome, skillful with a football, and about her age, fourteen, just like her.
Her eyes fell on the scattered papers on her desk. One line caught her attention. She quickly hid it and murmured:
"Oh, Hope… you're so mischievous."
Then she looked toward Andy outside and whispered:
"One day… I'll hold your hand… and look into your eyes."
A soft knock came at the door. It was her mother.
"May I come in, Hope?" Nancy asked gently.
Hope wheeled to the door and opened it. "Of course, my flower," she said. She always called her mother different flowers—lily, chrysanthemum, jasmine—because Hope thinks that each day her mother bloomed like a new flower.
Nancy entered, carrying a warm cup of anise tea—Hope's favorite. She kissed Hope on the cheek.
"Do you know you're the most wonderful girl in the world?" she asked softly.
Hope smiled faintly.
"Only in your eyes, Mom," she replied.
Nancy touched Hope's hair and lifted her chin.
"No. You will be the most wonderful in everyone's eyes. You are growing into a young woman who will captivate many. Whoever falls for you will be truly lucky."
Hope looked away shyly, smiling softly, her heart filled with both joy and sorrow.
"Drink your tea before it cools, my dear," her mother whispered before leaving.
Hope moved toward the Dream Sofa, where Lucy lay resting. She placed her tea on the small table, shifted from her wheelchair, and sat beside her cat.
"Do you think Andy would like me?" she asked softly with a smile.
"Oh, Lucy… I wish you could speak like us. And I wish… I could walk and run like you."
She took a sip of tea, glancing toward the window again and again.
Then, suddenly, a white dove landed near the balcony.
Hope froze. She had never seen one so close before, standing right there on the edge.
Excited, she tried to rise from the sofa—but her hand slipped. Her body lost balance, and she fell hard onto the floor. The wheelchair rolled away from her.
Tears welled in her eyes as she lay on the ground, staring at the white dove still standing calmly on the balcony.
She tried to crawl toward her wheelchair—but it was too far.
Despair washed over her. She looked at Lucy helplessly, then closed her eyes and let herself give in.
Minutes passed in silence.
Then Hope's fingers twitched. Her brows furrowed slightly. Slowly… she opened her eyes.
Her pupils widened.
Because what she saw next… was impossible.