Three years.
That’s how long it had been since the accident that took everything from me.
I sat in my wheelchair inside the bright physical therapy room, staring at the parallel bars in front of me like they were my enemy. My legs hung uselessly beneath me, mostly numb from the knees down. Sometimes I got faint tingles, but they never lasted long. The therapists called these sessions “gait training.” I called them torture.
“Come on, Elena,” Leo said from beside me. He was crouched down so we were at eye level, one hand resting gently on my knee. “You’ve got this. Just one more set. I’m right here with you.”
I gave him a tired smile. Over the past three years, Leo had barely missed a single session. He had been there through every painful attempt to stand, every time I collapsed, every time I cried because my body refused to cooperate. He carried me when I was too weak, helped me bathe, and never once made me feel like a burden. If anything, his devotion had only grown stronger after the accident.
“I know,” I said quietly. “I’m just tired today.”
“You’re allowed to be tired.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “But you’re also the strongest person I know. One more time, okay?”
I nodded. Marla, my therapist, helped me transfer from the wheelchair into the standing frame. My arms shook as I gripped the parallel bars. Leo stayed close the entire time, murmuring encouragement while I tried to shift my weight and remember what it felt like to stand on my own. My legs didn’t respond the way they used to.
After twenty exhausting minutes, Marla called for a break. “Good work today, Elena. Let’s rest those arms for a bit.”
I sagged back into the wheelchair, sweat dampening my hairline. Leo handed me a bottle of water and gently wiped my face with a small towel.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I told him.
“I’ll take you.”
“I can do it myself,” I said, trying to sound confident. “I’ve been practicing the transfers. I’ll be fine. It’s just down the hall.”
He hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Okay. But if you need help, call me. I’ll be right here.”
I wheeled myself out of the therapy room and into the quiet hallway. The bathroom was at the far end. Halfway there, I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten my personal tissues — the soft ones I always used after peeing because regular hospital ones irritated my skin. They were in my bag back near the therapy area.
With a quiet sigh, I turned the wheelchair around and headed back.
As I approached the small consultation room beside the therapy area, I heard voices coming from inside. The door was slightly open. I slowed down without meaning to.
It was Leo’s voice.
And Dr. Harlan’s.
I was about to keep moving when something in their tones made me stop.
“…I’ve kept quiet for three years,” Dr. Harlan was saying, his voice low and tense. “But this is getting too risky. People are starting to ask questions. If anyone ever looks closely at the accident report, or wonders why her recovery has been so unusually slow despite all the therapy—”
“You’ll be paid,” Leo cut in calmly. “I already transferred the last amount this morning. Just tell me how much more you want and I’ll make it happen. But you will keep your mouth shut about everything. The accident, the drugs, all of it.”
There was a short pause.
Then Dr. Harlan spoke again, sounding strained. “It’s not just about the money anymore, Mr. Valenti. What you and Sophia planned… making it look like a random hit-and-run… and then keeping her on those medications to slow down her recovery so she’d stay dependent… I can’t keep carrying this secret. If the truth ever comes out—”
Leo cut him off again. “If you ever say a word about this to anyone, I will make sure you never speak again. Do you understand me? I don’t care how much money you want. Keep giving her the drugs, keep the reports clean, and stay quiet. Or I will silence you permanently.”
My entire body went cold.
I must have made a sound because the door suddenly pushed open wider. Both men turned to look at me.
Leo’s face drained of color the moment he saw me. Dr. Harlan looked like he had seen a ghost.
I wheeled myself into the room, my hands shaking so badly on the rims of the wheelchair that it wobbled. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
“What did you just say?” My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. “What do you mean you and Sophia planned it?”
Leo took a step toward me. “Elena—”
“Don’t.” I held up a trembling hand. Tears were already burning my eyes. “Don’t come near me. Answer me. Is it true? Did you… did you make that car hit me?”
The silence that followed was louder than any answer he could have given.
Dr. Harlan looked away, guilt written all over his face.
Leo’s expression cracked. For the first time in three years, I saw real fear in his eyes.
“Elena, listen to me,” he said, his voice breaking. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. It got out of control. Sophia was worried about some things… about you getting too involved. The accident was meant to scare you. To make you step back for a while. I never wanted you to get hurt this badly…”
“You planned it.” The words tasted bitter in my mouth. “You and Sophia. You took my legs from me. You took my life from me. And for three years, you let me believe you were the one taking care of me. That you loved me.”
“I do love you,” he said desperately, reaching for me again.
I shoved the wheelchair backward so hard I almost tipped over. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare touch me.”
Questions flooded my mind so fast I could barely keep up. Why? Why would Sophia want me hurt? What did I know? What was I close to finding out? Did the whole family know? Did Sandro know?
My chest felt like it was caving in. I couldn’t breathe.
I spun the wheelchair around and pushed myself out of the room as fast as my shaking arms would allow. Leo called my name behind me, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.
Tears blurred my vision as I wheeled down the hallway toward the exit. I didn’t care where I was going. I just needed to get out. Away from him. Away from the lies. Away from the man I had trusted with every broken piece of myself for the past three years.
The automatic doors slid open, and I wheeled myself outside into the afternoon sunlight. My sobs were coming harder now, my whole body shaking. I didn’t even try to wipe my face. I just kept moving.
I reached the edge of the road in front of the hospital and started to cross without looking.
It all happened too quickly, tires screeched, a horn blared loud enough to stop me in my tracks
I looked up just in time to see a black car swerving hard, trying to stop. It came to a halt only inches away from my wheelchair.
I felt my heart stop in that instant.
The driver’s door flew open.
A man stepped out, tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that looked slightly messy. He looked terrified as he rushed toward me. Then his eyes landed on my face.
That was when I recognised him.
Julia Kane.
My childhood best friend. The boy who used to walk me home from school. The one who had disappeared from my life years ago without a single word. The one whose face sometimes appeared in my dreams.
He looked older now. But those warm brown eyes were exactly the same.
“Elena?” His voice cracked as he said my name.
I couldn’t speak. I just stared at him through my tears, my mind spinning with everything that had just happened and everything I had just lost all over again.
He was already moving closer, his hands raised like he was approaching something fragile.
“Hey… it’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
For the first time in three years, I wasn’t sure if I believed anyone who said that anymore.
But I was too broken to run.
