Chapter 4

The decision came after another week of careful observation: Elena was stable enough to leave the frame.

The day felt momentous, almost ceremonial. The nurses prepared the plaster and gauze; the surgeons checked the final scans. Simon stood nearby, silent but alert, his hands clasped behind his back.

When the frame was removed piece by piece, Elena’s body seemed smaller without it — fragile, yes, but also freer. The long confinement had left her muscles thin and pale. Yet when Simon met her eyes, he saw strength there — the quiet kind that survives pain and grows from it.

The doctors worked slowly, wrapping her left leg in a long plaster cast that stretched from her toes to her thigh. The cast was thick and smooth, molded carefully to keep her knee slightly bent and the bones aligned. When the plaster dried, it gleamed faintly white beneath the lights.

Next came the spinal brace. It was a broad back support — a rigid shell lined with soft padding, fitting from her waist to her shoulders. Once secured, it held her spine upright, protecting the once-damaged vertebrae that had nearly cost her everything. Elena felt its steady pressure, unfamiliar yet reassuring.