Chapter Fifteen: A New Stillness
Weeks passed, and the changes came in waves. The new medications dulled the pain in Syan's joints, though they left him drowsy, his mind foggy at times. A physical therapist started visiting, a gruff woman named Mara who moved his limbs with a mix of gentleness and stubborn resolve. "You've got more in you than you think," she'd say, and he'd grit his teeth through the ache, Lila cheering him on from the sidelines.
His parents kept coming too—bringing groceries, fixing leaks in the roof, sitting with them through the long winter evenings. They didn't push, didn't demand forgiveness, just stayed, their presence a quiet insistence. Lila watched them still, her guard up, but she'd started talking to them—small things, like school or the weather, testing the waters.
One afternoon, as snow fell thick outside, his father wheeled Syan to the window. "Can't see it," Syan said, a dry edge to his voice.
"Feel it, then," his father replied, cracking the window. Cold air rushed in, crisp and sharp, carrying the faint scent of pine. "Better than being cooped up."
It was—a small freedom, but real. Lila joined them, her laughter ringing as she described the snow piling up, shaping it into forts in her mind. His mother lingered nearby, a tentative smile in her voice as she offered hot cocoa.
That night, Lila curled up beside him, the dragon book finished, its hero resting at last. "They're sticking around," she said, her tone soft but sure. "I think… I think they might stay this time."
"Yeah," Syan said, the word heavy with a cautious hope he was starting to let in. "Maybe they will."
The stillness was different now—not the suffocating weight of before, but a gentler quiet, warmed by the people around him. His body was still broken, his sight still gone, but the light Lila carried burned brighter, joined by flickers from others who'd finally chosen to stay. It wasn't perfect, wasn't healed, but it was enough—for now, it was enough.