Chapter 3: The First Step

Morning came without warning. A nurse drew the curtains back, letting a rectangle of cold light fall across the bed. The cast looked different in daylight—less like armor, more like an obstacle. Its surface had dried to a faint chalky grey.

“Physio at nine,” the nurse said brightly. “You’ll be fine.”

Fine. The word had become everyone’s favorite.

She waited until the nurse left before trying to move. The leg was heavier than she remembered. Each time she shifted her hips, the cast pulled at her lower back. The simple act of sitting up took planning, calculation. She hated the dependency that came with it—the way she had to call for help to do what once was instinct.

When the orderly arrived with a wheelchair, she felt an odd stab of shame, as though she’d done something wrong by needing it. The corridor beyond the room was full of light, voices, footsteps. The normal rhythm of hospital life made her slowness feel even more pronounced.

The physiotherapy room smelled faintly of disinfectant and warm rubber. Parallel bars gleamed under fluorescent bulbs. A woman in green scrubs greeted her with practiced cheerfulness.

“I’m Anna,” she said. “We’ll start easy today.”

Easy. Another small, misleading word.