Her knee bent.
It was small. Almost invisible.
But Daniel saw it.
A controlled movement.
Not assisted. Not forced.
Intentional.
His chest tightened painfully.
“Marcus,” Daniel asked quietly, “how did you know to try this?”
The boy shrugged again, but there was thoughtfulness in his answer.
“I didn’t know. I just thought maybe if she felt lighter, she’d be braver.”
Braver.
No specialist had ever used that word.
They used terms like prognosis, progression, adaptation.
Braver had never entered the clinical conversation.
Lily laughed again as the water splashed.
“Daddy, I can wiggle!”
Daniel knelt beside the basin, eyes level with hers.
“Show me.”
She focused hard, biting her lower lip. Slowly—so slowly—her toes flexed beneath the water.
A ripple.
A tiny splash.
