Chapter 13

Ethan sat up straighter. "What did he say?"The rain suddenly seemed louder. Maya glanced around again, then stepped closer. "He said it didn't look right."Something cold moved through Ethan's stomach. "What does that mean?""He said it wasn't medicine he recognized for helping legs get stronger."Robert crossed his arms. "That's not exactly scientific.""I know," Maya nodded. "But that's not all." The little girl looked down at the plastic bag. "I asked him why someone would take medicine like that."Ethan's pulse quickened. "And?""He said some medicines can make muscles weaker if people take them for a long time."Silence. Nobody spoke. Rain tapped against the pavilion roof, cars moved through puddles, and a train horn echoed somewhere in the distance. The city continued normally. Yet Ethan felt like something inside him had shifted: not certainty, not proof, just possibility—a terrible possibility."No." The word left his mouth before he realized he'd spoken.Maya watched him carefully.Ethan shook his head. "No. Claire wouldn't do that. She couldn't."She had sat beside his hospital bed, held his hand, cried when doctors delivered bad news, canceled vacations, postponed her life, supported him, loved him. Didn't she?The questions came faster now—too fast. His head hurt.Maya's voice softened. "I didn't want to upset you."Ethan looked away toward the lake. Dark water rolled beneath dark clouds. He remembered every morning pill, every evening pill, every doctor appointment, every explanation, every setback, every promise that recovery simply took time. Maybe it was all true. Maybe.Then why did Claire look terrified? The question returned: again, and again, and again."Ethan?" Maya's voice sounded small now, concerned.He looked back at her. The little girl suddenly seemed frightened she had hurt him—not physically, but emotionally, like she regretted speaking. And that realization struck him harder than anything else: Maya wasn't trying to gain something; she wasn't asking for money, she wasn't asking for favors, she wasn't asking for attention. She was trying to help. That's all: purely, honestly, help. The kind of help that expected nothing in return; the kind of help most adults forgot existed.Ethan slowly reached toward the plastic bag. Maya handed it to him. He studied the pill: a simple white tablet, nothing remarkable. Yet it felt heavier than stone."What if you're wrong?" he asked quietly.The question surprised her—not because of the words, but because of the sadness behind them. Maya thought carefully, then answered:"Then you lose one day worrying." She pointed gently toward his legs. "But what if I'm right?"

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