Chapter 3: Standing in the Light
Lily ignored her father’s plea. Her eyes locked onto the boy’s face, finding an anchor in his steady gaze. Slowly, trembling, she reached out her small hand.
The boy did not grab her. He placed his hands beneath hers, holding her fingers gently with both of his rough, calloused palms.
“I’m right here,” he murmured.
With a deep, ragged breath, Lily pushed down on the armrests. Her small legs, thin and frail from years of disuse, began to shake violently beneath her pink dress. The strain was immediate—her posture buckled, her face flushed red with exertion, and for a terrifying second, her knees gave out completely.
The crowd gasped. A woman near the front covered her mouth.
Before she could hit the floor, the boy stepped forward, locking his shoulders and taking her full weight against his chest. He didn't move an inch back. He held her steady, his dirty bare feet gripping the polished marble floor until her balance caught.
Slowly, agonizingly, Lily straightened her back.
She stood.
For the first time in three long years, Lily Sterling was standing on her own two feet in the middle of a room.
Arthur Sterling dropped to his knees beside the wheelchair, his hand rising to cover his mouth. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over his cheeks as he stared up at his daughter. He couldn't speak. He couldn't breathe. The air in his lungs felt completely trapped.
“How…” Arthur stammered, his voice breaking into a sob. “How is this possible?”
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Lily looked down at her father, tears streaming through a tiny, radiant smile that he hadn't seen since the day the world broke.
The boy looked at Arthur, his chest heaving with the effort of holding her up. “Because she asked me to come.”
