A whisper of movement so small it could have been missed by anyone who didn’t need it to be true.
But Fernando saw it like lightning.
His whole body jerked as if the toe had moved inside him, too, snapping something loose from denial.
Elena blinked hard, stunned by her own power.
Her toe moved again, still small, still shaky.
Undeniably hers.
A sob broke from her chest, raw and unguarded.
“I… I did it,” she breathed, like she couldn’t trust the words.
Viven stepped forward too quickly.
“Stop this,” she hissed, sweetness gone. “You’re hurting her.”
Fernando’s arm shot out, palm open in a hard command.
“Don’t.”
His eyes were wet now, but his voice was steel.
“No,” he said. “You heard her.”
Immani looked up at Fernando, not triumphant, just steady.
“That’s what she’s been stealing,” Immani said. “Little by little. Elena’s strength, her voice… her truth.”
Elena clutched Fernando’s hand like a lifeline.
“I was scared,” Elena whispered. “Every time I tried to tell you… she’d look at me and I’d forget how to breathe.”
Fernando knelt beside her wheelchair until his face was level with hers.
Tears slipped free, unashamed.
“You never have to be scared alone again,” he promised.
This time it wasn’t comfort.