“You had no right,” Evan replied, stepping forward despite himself. His heart hammered in his chest as he gestured toward the empty wheelchairs. “They are not supposed to be out of those chairs. You know that.”
“They are supposed to be comfortable,” Rachel answered, her tone steady without being defiant. “And they are supposed to feel like children, not patients.”
The twins sensed the tension immediately. Aaron’s fingers curled against the mat, his earlier smile fading into uncertainty, while Simon glanced between his father and Rachel as if unsure which reaction was expected of him. Evan felt something sharp twist inside his chest at the sight.
“Put them back,” he said quietly. “Now.”
Rachel hesitated, studying his face for a long moment, then nodded. She helped Simon first, lifting him carefully, murmuring reassurance as she settled him into his chair. Aaron followed, clinging to her sleeve with surprising strength before finally letting go. Neither boy reached for Evan, and the realization struck him harder than he expected.
When she finished, Rachel stood. “They laughed today,” she said softly. “That has not happened in a long time.”