Katherine checked the last piece of equipment she’d hauled from R country, giving Matthew a thumbs up. His phone buzzed with the news they’d been waiting for
“Heart’s here,” he said, already reaching for soap. “Ninety–two percent compatibility.”
The surgery passed in a blur. When it was over, Matthew sent a quick text to frene: Surgery successful. Ifeart function at 58%. Just like you predicted.
Across town, Irene glanced at her phone, then set it face–down without comment.
“Rose?” Adam asked, watching her face.
“Transplant went well,” she replied, her voice carrying neither celebration nor bitterness. She straightened her shoulders slightly. “That chapter’s closed. Let’s focus on what matters now.”
The room in Adam’s home buzzed with the quiet hum of machines. Irene placed small sensors on different spots on his legs, moving with practiced ease. As she studied the screen, her serious expression slowly gave way to surprise.
“These readings…” she murmured, then looked up with a spark in her eyes. “They’re nearly double last week’s results.
Adam’s breath caught. “What does that mean?”
Her fingers traced the climbing line on the screen, her voice softening. “It means we can start the next phase. Your legs are responding. We can begin actual rehabilitation exercises.”
“Really?” The single word carried years of carefully buried hope.
A creak from the doorway interrupted them. Three small heads peeked around the frame – Alex’s serious face, Lucas’s excited grin, and Lily’s wide eyes.
“We heard everything!” Lily burst into the room, practically bouncing “Uncle Adam’s legs are getting better!”
Lucas punched the air. “Told you Mom could fix him!”
Alex studied the screen with unusual focus. “The brain signals to his legs are getting stronger,” he announced proudly, causing both
adults to stare.
Irene laughed and ruffled his hair. “Recovery needs to be slow and steady,” she said, turning back to Adam. “Push too hard and we risk losing progress.”
–
Adam nodded, but she caught the fire in his eyes that same intensity she’d seen in business settings.
“I have a gym downstairs,” he said. “Could we use it for the training?
Sunshine flooded the gym the next morning as Adam prepared for his first real workout. Thomas had rearranged the equipment exactly how Irene wanted it. The triplets formed an adorable cheering section in their matching workout clothes.
“We start with gentle movements, then build up,” Irene explained, her hair tied back in a simple ponytail. “Nothing too intense today.”
As Adam transferred from his wheelchair, Irene noticed his legs – thinner than his muscular upper body, but not as weak as she’d expected. Within minutes, sweat darkened his shirt. His jaw tightened with each controlled movement while Irene watched every
reaction.
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“Do the machines work okay? Lucas asked, bouncing on his toes.
“Better than the hospital’s,” Ireire replied, adjusting one of the settings. “Uncle Adam has everything we need right here.”
“Lucky!” Lucas nodded enthusiastically. “My skateboard coach said the same thing about their ramps. He keeps calling Mom to let me join, but she says I’m too little.”
Adam glanced at Irene. “Your decision makes sense. That training’s pretty intense for his age.”
“That’s what I told him,” she replied with a grateful smile. “Maybe when he’s older, if he’s still interested.”
Halfway through the session, Adam suddenly cranked up the resistance level. Almost immediately, his right leg seized in protest.
Irene moved quickly, stabilizing him and resetting the machine. Her expression hardened.
“This is exactly why we follow the plan,” she said firmly. “Pushing too hard erases progress. We’re not starting over because you’re impatient.”
Adam’s breathing was labored, but his eyes met hers unflinchingly. “Sorry… wanted to see what I could handle
Her expression softened. “Recovery isn’t a race,” she said more gently “It’s a partnership. Patience beats force every time.”
“Uncle Adam needs water!” Lily announced, trotting over with a towel nearly as big as
she was.
Alex crossed his arms, looking serious. “Doing a little every day works better than pushing too hard,” he stated, sounding like he’d swallowed a how–to book.
“You’re already so strong!” Lucas added, eyes wide with admiration.
Irene watched them, a complex mix of emotions swirling inside her. She’d seen too many patients give up when progress couldn’t match expectation. But something about Adam’s focus told her he’d be different. And her investment in his recovery had long since crossed from professional to personal.
Despite the earlier setback, Adam completed the full session. By the end, his clothes clung to him, muscles trembling. Yet beneath the strain, satisfaction radiated from him – the feeling of reclaiming something long surrendered.
“The data looks good,” Irene said as she reviewed the results. “Keep this up, and I believe you’ll stand again. But remember – slow and steady wins this race.”
Adam’s eyes held hers. “I’ll see it through,” he promised, his voice lower than usual. “Thank you, Irene.”
The simple words carried such weight that she found herself momentarily without response. She busied herself with the equipment.
“Same time tomorrow,” she said finally. “Don’t forget that hot bath tonight. Your muscles will thank you.”
Sunset painted Adam’s study in gold that evening. Alone in the quiet house, he watched a training video Irene had sent, memorizing each movement.
His eyes drifted to the window, where he could see the lights of her home. The thought of her- her smile during the concert, her focus as she worked, her fierce love for her children – made something tighten in his chest.
Tonight, she had given him hope when he’d all but abandoned it. And now, he needed to prove to himself that hope wasn’t misplaced.
He wheeled to the wall, positioning his chair for support. Taking a deep breath, he planted his hands firmly on the armrests, determination hardening his features.
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Slowly, painfully, he began shifting his weight from the chair to his gs. Unused muscles screamed in protest, but the thought of Irene drove him forward. He imagined standing before her, not looking up from his chair but meeting her gaze as an equal. Telling her the things he’d been holding back.
With tremendous effort, his body rose slightly barely an inch, but for the first time in years, he supported his own weight. The sensation was both agony and pure triumph.
His vision blurred with the effort, sweat running down his temples, but be held the position for one second… two seconds… three.
When he finally collapsed back, chest heaving, a smile broke across is face despite the pain. He looked toward the window, where Irene’s house glowed warmly in the gathering darkness.
“Soon,” he promised himself between ragged breaths, “I’ll stand before you
say.”
–
and finally tell you everything I’ve been wanting to
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