“Ten minutes,” Marcus said. “I stayed close. I didn’t touch her unless she asked.”
Daniel appreciated that detail more than he let on.
He turned back to Lily. “Do your legs feel tired?”
“No,” she said confidently. “They feel… floaty.”
Floaty.
Another word no doctor had written in a report.
Daniel stood slowly.
“Marcus, would you help me move this basin onto the patio? It’s more stable there.”
Marcus’s face lit up slightly. “Yes, sir.”
Together, they carefully lifted the rim and slid it a few feet onto the flat stone surface. Lily squealed at the tiny waves but stayed balanced.
Daniel crouched again.
“Let’s try something,” he said gently. “Can you bend both knees just a little?”
Lily concentrated.
The water shifted.
Her knees softened.
Not perfectly. Not evenly.
But undeniably.
Daniel pressed his hand to his mouth.
He had attended dozens of therapy sessions. He knew the difference between involuntary motion and intentional engagement.
This was intentional.
Marcus watched quietly, not claiming credit.
“Why didn’t you ask me first?” Daniel asked him, though the question lacked its earlier sharpness.
“I thought you might say no,” Marcus admitted honestly. “Grown-ups say no to a lot of things.”
Daniel exhaled.
He had built his life on saying no.
No to risk.
No to uncertainty.
No to anything that couldn’t be guaranteed.
And in doing so, maybe he had also said no to possibility.
Lily leaned back slightly, trusting the crutches less.
“Daddy, look! No hands!”
