*Rhys*
I lifted my leg, a heavy weight that refused to cooperate, and set it down with more force than I intended. The clatter of my boot echoed in the therapy room, a stark reminder of the strength that had not yet returned.
"Easy there, Rhys," said the therapist, his tone patient but edged with concern. "Remember, slow and steady."
I exhaled sharply, nodding once as I focused on the next step. Each movement was a battle, a challenge to push past the pain and limitations left by Alexa's ambush. I could feel the muscles quiver, protesting the strain. I couldn't afford to yield—not when so much depended on my recovery, not when Saoirse and our children were depending on me.
"Good. That's good," he encouraged. As I glanced up, I saw him exchange a quick, uncertain look with an attendant—a silent conversation I wasn't meant to notice.
