### Chapter Twenty-Three: The Motorized Dawn
The motorized wheelchair arrived on a Thursday, its arrival announced by the loud rumble of a delivery truck grinding up the muddy road. Syan heard the commotion from inside—Lila's excited shout, his father's gruff exchange with the driver, the thud of a heavy box hitting the porch. The house buzzed with a rare energy, a spark that hadn't been there before.
His father wrestled the chair inside, cursing as he maneuvered it through the narrow doorway, while Lila darted around him, tearing at the packaging with a kitchen knife. "It's here, Syan!" she called, her voice alight. "It's got buttons and everything!"
"Buttons, huh?" he said, a faint grin tugging at him. "Better not run me into a wall."
"No promises," she shot back, laughing.
It took an hour to assemble—his father muttering instructions, Lila reading the manual aloud, her voice tripping over technical terms. When it was done, the chair sat sleek and solid beside his bed, its hum quieter than the old one's squeak. His father lifted him into it, hands steady but careful, and Lila adjusted the oxygen unit, clipping it to the side.
"Ready?" she asked, her hand hovering over the controls.
"Ready," he said, his heart thudding with something close to anticipation.
She showed him the joystick—small, smooth under his fingers—and guided his hand. "Forward's up, back's down. Left, right—you get it. Go slow."
He pushed, tentative at first, and the chair rolled forward, smooth and steady. The sensation jolted him—movement, real movement, under his control for the first time in years. He turned, the wheels whispering against the floor, and aimed for the kitchen, Lila trailing behind with a grin he could feel.
"Watch out, world," she said, clapping as he navigated past the table. "Dragon's loose."
His father stood back, arms crossed, a rare smile cracking his stern face. "Not bad," he said. "Told you it'd give you some legs."
"Better than legs," Syan said, circling back. "No tripping."
His mother watched from the armchair, her eyes bright despite the lingering fatigue. "You look… stronger," she said, her voice soft. "It's good to see."
He didn't reply, but the words settled in, warm and unexpected. They stayed late again, his father tweaking the chair's settings while his mother made tea—real tea, not just hot water. Lila wheeled him outside after, the ramp smooth under the new wheels, and he felt the faint sun on his face, the air sharp with spring's promise.
"Think you could make it to the road?" she asked, half-teasing.
"Give me a week," he said, pushing the joystick forward. "I'll race you."
She laughed, loud and free, and for a moment, the stillness wasn't a cage—it was a dawn, breaking open with every turn of the wheels.
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Let me know if you'd like Chapter 24 or any adjustments here!