But love wasn’t enough to undo what had happened.
Their relationship became fragile.
A constant balancing act between dependence and independence, gratitude and frustration.
He knew she hated feeling like a burden.
And he hated that she felt that way.
He told her she was loved. That nothing had changed.
But sometimes… even he knew those words fell short.
He could see the pain she tried to hide.
The frustration beneath the surface.
The constant effort just to appear okay.
He tried to be everything—father, friend, nurse, therapist.
But he knew he could never fully understand her pain.
Was this new loss of feeling connected to the accident?
Or something worse?
Something slowly taking more from her?
Then—
“I can help her.”
The voice came from behind them.
Calm.
Too calm.
Both of them turned immediately.
Near the gate stood a boy.
Still.
Watching.
He looked ordinary. Sixteen, maybe seventeen. Nothing about him stood out.
But his eyes—
There was something unsettling there.
Something that made the father’s instincts flare.
The boy stood just outside the gate, hands loosely clasped, expression unreadable.
His gaze remained fixed on the girl.
The father stepped forward slightly.
Protective.
“Stay back,” he said sharply.