Nina arrived before the morning medication, carrying two coffees despite knowing I could drink neither. She placed one beside herself before giving the second to Ava, who accepted it while explaining that bribery would not cancel my corridor walk.
"I purchased morale," Nina said, removing her jacket as she examined the walker beside my bed, "but medical staff seized the shipment."
"My morale preferred tea," I replied, pulling the breathing device toward me before Ava could point at it.
"Your morale filled an insurance form incorrectly," Ava said, checking my drain while Nina covered a laugh, "so it receives water."
The first standing attempt yesterday had taught my body that movement existed. Overnight, every damaged muscle had apparently gathered to oppose any further negotiations. Sitting upright required two pauses, while placing my feet down made the incision pull beneath its dressing.
Nina moved toward my right side when Ava lowered the rail, stopping before her hands reached me. Yesterday's instructions had taught her where to support my elbow, though our conversation had changed what assistance meant. She waited until I looked directly at her instead of assuming permission.
"Elbow," I said, lifting my right arm slightly while I controlled another breath.
"That is a body part," Nina replied, keeping both hands near herself, "try making it a request."
"Please support my elbow until I stand," I said, appreciating her refusal more after the words became clear.
"Yes," she answered, placing one hand beneath it while the other steadied my forearm.
Ava controlled the walker as I rose, leaving Nina to provide balance without carrying my weight. Pain tightened from my ribs toward the repaired tear, making my knees unreliable once they straightened. I held the walker until the room returned to its proper distance.
"Tell us before you move," Ava instructed, clipping the drain pouch against my gown as she stepped back, "we follow your pace."
The promise should have removed pressure, though Nina's attention made failure feel public. I wanted to take the first step before my body felt ready, proving that her care had not turned me helpless. That impatient impulse belonged to injured pride rather than sensible physical recovery.
"I need another second," I said, letting the walker carry my hands while my breathing settled.
"Take five," Nina replied, loosening her support without leaving, "the corridor is not escaping."
When I moved, the walker landed first, followed by my right foot before the bruised left side caught up. We crossed the room in small sections until the doorway waited ahead. The short distance looked insulting after years of walking without any conscious planning.
Ava stayed behind my left shoulder while Nina matched the other side. Neither praised each step, which allowed me to concentrate without performing gratitude. Reaching the open corridor felt earned because nobody around me pretended it was easy.
"Left toward the nurses' station," Ava said, keeping the line from catching a wheel, "we turn whenever you decide."
"How far is the station?" I asked, studying the polished floor beyond three open doorways.
"Thirty meters," she replied, giving me the number without softening it.
"That seems excessive for people with telephones," I said, moving the walker before fear could return to my knees.
Nina looked ahead while her mouth shifted, saving the laugh until my second step landed. The reaction pleased me more than it should have, especially when her hand remained beneath my elbow. I tried another weak line before we reached the next open patient doorway.
"If I collapse, delete the contact photograph you chose," I told her, pausing when pain reached the middle of my back, "my legacy deserves better lighting."
"If you collapse, I am changing it to your hospital gown," she replied, adjusting her grip after I asked, "so protect your legacy."
The conversation shortened the corridor without removing any part of what the walk cost. I tried another weak line before reaching the next open doorway safely. At the second doorway, a coughing fit caught me before I could brace, making Nina tighten her hands while Ava locked the walker.
"Do not pull him," Ava warned, moving around the frame as I tried drawing air beneath the pain.
"I am holding the position," Nina replied, looking at me instead of the nurse, "tell me if you want less."
I shook my head because speech would have broken the breath I had. Her grip stayed firm without becoming ownership, keeping my balance until the coughing stopped. Sweat cooled beneath the collar of my gown despite the short distance.
"Turn back," Ava said, watching the monitor attached to my finger, "you reached enough for this morning."
"The station is one doorway away," I replied, finding it near the end of the hall while frustration returned.
"Your spleen does not care," she said, angling the walker before I could argue, "recovery is not scored by dramatic distance."
The System appeared near the nurses' station after she said it, offering no reward or disagreement. I had been ready to convert pain into proof because Nina was watching. That realization embarrassed me considerably more than accepting the necessary turn around.
"Back," I agreed, shifting the walker while Nina followed my decision without comment.
The return began badly because fatigue had removed the rhythm I learned on the way out. My left foot dragged during one step, forcing Nina to catch my forearm before the walker rolled. I stopped there, waiting for her to decide whether I needed additional help.
"What do you want?" she asked, maintaining the support I had requested earlier.
"Your arm around my back," I said, moving my hand off the walker only after Ava approved, "until we reach the room."
Nina stepped closer, fitting her arm beneath mine while keeping pressure away from the incision. My palm rested against her shoulder, feeling muscle move whenever she adjusted to my pace. The contact was practical, but my body had not received that instruction everywhere.
She smelled faintly of citrus shampoo, which created an unreasonable amount of awareness inside a hospital corridor. Her chest brushed my upper arm once when we turned, sending my attention somewhere entirely unhelpful. I focused on the walker, deciding not to investigate while publicly wearing a drain pouch.
"You went quiet," Nina said, keeping her gaze forward while the room approached, "is the pain worse?"
"Different problem," I replied, immediately regretting the honesty when she looked sideways.
"Medical?" she asked, slowing without stopping because Ava remained behind us.
"Social," I answered, feeling heat reach my face while her arm stayed across my back.
Nina understood after one second, then looked forward again with a smile she did not attempt to hide. She shifted closer to guide me through the doorway, making the contact either necessary or deliberately cruel. I decided not to investigate her motive while publicly wearing a drain pouch.
"Try surviving until discharge," she said, easing me toward the bed after Ava locked the walker, "then we can diagnose your social problem."
"It may require long-term observation," I replied, sitting through the pressure while both women kept my lines clear.
"I study journalism," Nina said, withdrawing her arm only after I reached the mattress, "observation is available."
Ava helped lift my legs before checking the dressing for new bleeding. Nina stepped away during the examination, giving me privacy without making the necessary distance look embarrassed. When the nurse finished, she returned with the water cup plus a towel for my face.
"Can I?" Nina asked, holding the towel near my forehead without touching.
"Yes," I replied, closing my eyes while she wiped away the sweat with careful strokes.
The tenderness made joking harder because it did not arrive through accident or necessity. Nina had asked, received permission, then performed one simple act without making it symbolic. My chest tightened for a reason the surgical team could not repair.
[Recovery milestone recorded.]
[Fitness: 27 → 28]
[Reason: completed assisted walk while communicating limits.]
The receipt appeared after Nina placed the damp towel beside the nearby basin. It rewarded the walk plus the request for help, not distance or pain tolerance. I read it while she pulled the chair closer to the bed.
Her wrapped palm had begun itching beneath the bandage, though she avoided scratching it against the chair. I asked whether the clinic had checked the scrape today, receiving a photograph of the clean dressing instructions. Nina had handled her own injury before coming to supervise mine, which eased one concern without erasing it.
"Do you need help changing it later?" I asked, glancing toward the hand after she locked her phone.
"Olica will handle the wrap," she replied, flexing her fingers carefully while she considered me, "your current medical authority ends at noticing."
"Noticing is my strongest qualification," I said, accepting the boundary without offering repayment for her care.
"Did your rude machine approve?" she asked, opening her coffee after Ava left.
"One Fitness point," I replied, moving the walker farther from my knee, "apparently communication prevented bonus organ damage."
"Excellent," Nina said, raising the paper cup before taking a drink, "we should put that on a shirt."
I rested until the shaking left my arms, watching her answer messages from class. She had missed another morning lecture to attend the walk, though she never presented that choice as a debt. That knowledge made me ask exactly when her next class was scheduled to begin.
"One hour," she replied, checking the time before placing the phone away, "I can stay until then."
"Go now if you need breakfast," I said, seeing the old refusal begin before I stopped it, "but I want the company if you are choosing between here and the library."
"I am choosing here," Nina answered, stretching her legs beneath the chair while satisfaction crossed her face.
Silence settled without becoming empty, letting me feel the tired pleasure beneath the pain. I had asked for specific help, admitted attraction badly, plus survived a distance designed for healthy people. None of it felt impressive, but Nina remained close enough that our knees nearly touched.
The fear had not disappeared after the walk, leaving my hands cold whenever I remembered losing my balance. Nina had seen it without praising endurance or treating me as fragile. Being observed that closely should have felt unbearable, yet I wanted her attention to remain.
"Do you always get funny when you are terrified?" she asked, turning the coffee cup between her hands while she watched me.