Chapter 16
Six weeks later, I could stand longer.
Not long.
Longer.
Dr. Hart said the nerve recovery would remain uneven. Some days I would walk several steps with support. Others I would need the wheelchair from morning to night.
I stopped treating one as victory and the other as defeat.
That was harder than any exercise.
June stayed.
Her cheap wristwatch broke during my fourth week of rehabilitation. I offered to replace it.
She refused the first one I showed her because it cost more than her monthly salary.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It tells time.”
“So does mine.”
“Mine also gets stolen less.”
I laughed.
She did not.
Edwin eventually found her a simple replacement close enough to the original that she accepted it without feeling purchased.
That mattered.
One afternoon, a new capo entered during therapy and stopped when he saw me struggling to stand.
Months earlier, I would have dismissed the therapist and finished alone rather than let a man watch.
Instead I said, “Give me five minutes.”
The capo nodded.
Waited outside.
That was all.
No rumor.
No crisis.
No succession panic.
When I finally reached the therapy bench, June handed me water.
“You’re breathing too fast.”
“You enjoy saying that.”
“You enjoy ignoring it.”
Fair.
I slowed down.
Then looked at the full medication bottle sitting openly on the cabinet.
No lock.
No hidden schedule.
No family gatekeeper.
Just medicine where it belonged.
I realized then that Lucia’s greatest advantage had never been my injury.
May you like
It was my shame about needing care.
The moment I stopped treating help like humiliation, half her weapons became useless.
