### Chapter Eleven: Steps in the Snow
The visit from Dr. Ellis left a quiet hum in the house, a shift Syan couldn't quite name. She'd stayed for over an hour, her voice calm and steady as she asked about his pain, his breathing, the slow creep of his illness. Lila had hovered nearby, chiming in with details he couldn't—how he winced sometimes when she moved him, how his voice rasped more on cold days. His parents had stayed silent, lingering by the door like shadows, but they hadn't left. Not yet.
When Dr. Ellis finally packed up, she'd promised to return in a few days with a plan—tests, equipment, maybe even a specialist. "We'll take it step by step," she'd said, her tone firm but kind. "You've been managing on your own for too long." Syan hadn't known how to respond to that, so he'd just nodded, the weight of her words settling in.
Now, with the doctor gone and the house quiet again, Lila sat cross-legged on the bed, picking at the edge of the blanket. "She seemed nice," she said, her voice testing the waters. "Like she actually cares."
"Yeah," Syan agreed, tilting his head toward her. "Seemed like it."
Their parents had stepped outside after Dr. Ellis left, murmuring something about giving them space. He could hear their voices faintly through the thin walls, low and tense, but he couldn't make out the words. It didn't matter. They'd done what they said—brought help. That was a start.
"Do you think they'll keep it up?" Lila asked, quieter now. "Or is this just… I don't know, a show?"
Syan didn't have an answer. He wanted to believe they'd changed, that guilt or love or whatever drove them back would hold, but trust was a thread worn thin. "We'll see," he said finally. "They've got a lot to prove."
She hummed, a small, thoughtful sound. "Yeah. They do." She shifted, leaning against him, her warmth a steady pulse. "But if they mess up, we're still us, right? Team Stillness?"
"Always," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Dragon and knight."
She laughed, soft and real, and the sound chased away some of the uncertainty clinging to the room. For a while, they just sat there, the familiar rhythm of her breathing anchoring him as the day faded into dusk.
The door creaked open later, his father's heavy steps breaking the calm. "Syan? Lila?" he called, his voice rough but hesitant. "We're heading out. Wanted to say… we'll be back tomorrow. Dr. Ellis gave us some contacts—people who can get a chair, maybe a bed that adjusts. We're working on it."
Lila tensed beside him, but her voice stayed steady. "Okay. Thanks."
His mother's softer steps followed, her voice closer now. "We'll call first next time. So you're not… surprised."
"Good," Lila said, a hint of steel in her tone. "We don't like surprises."
A pause, then his father cleared his throat. "Right. See you tomorrow, then."
The door shut behind them, and Lila let out a long breath, sinking back against the bed. "They're trying," she said, almost to herself. "I guess that's something."
"Yeah," Syan said. "Something."
Outside, the snow crunched under their retreating steps, a faint promise etched into the cold. Inside, the stillness held, but it felt lighter now—a flicker of possibility, fragile but growing.
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