CHAPTER FORTY-THREE:
The physical therapy room smelled like rubber mats and determination. June sat on the edge of the low bench, small legs dangling, face scrunched up in concentration as the therapist guided her through slow movements. Lyra stood a few feet away, hands clenched at her sides, fighting the urge to rush in and carry her daughter the whole way.
“You’re doing amazing, sweetheart,” Lyra said, voice steady even though her heart was racing. “Just like we practiced at home. One step at a time.”
June looked up, eyes bright with the mix of frustration and pride only an eight-year-old could manage. “It hurts a little. But I want to run again. For Anna. She keeps trying to crawl after me.”
Dimitri leaned against the wall, arms crossed tight like he was holding himself back from s
