Help me, won`t you?

Chapter 2: A Flicker of Hope

"I am disabled." With those four words, my happy life ended. It felt like a door had slammed shut, and I was certain it would never open again.

I used to have a career. I was a Major, and the ladder to success was right in front of me. It was my dream to follow in my father’s footsteps, to be a man of honor and strength. I worked almost every day, without weekends. No woman could tolerate my schedule; they wanted a husband, not a ghost who lived at the military base. By the age of thirty-eight, I had no wife and no children. Just my rank and my duty.

Then came that day. Another exercise, another routine inspection. Some i***t failed to listen to orders, an explosion tore through the air, and I was thrown like a ragdoll. Fate, it seemed, had placed a massive boulder right in my path. I woke up days later covered in burns, scratches, and bruises. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the words of the doctor: "You won't be able to walk."

Something was wrong with my spine. I stopped listening after that. To me, it was a death sentence. How could I achieve anything if I was chained to a wheelchair? No one could guarantee I’d ever stand again.

Two years passed in a blur of bitterness. My brother, Fedya, eventually lost his patience with my self-destruction. He insisted I move in with him, claiming he would handle my treatment. He didn't ask what I wanted. He just packed my things and took me. While I struggled to adjust to my new, confined reality, Fedya searched for a specialist. First, he found a psychotherapist at the military hospital—his neighbor, Lera. We talked, but I had nothing to say to her. Why bother? I wasn't needed when I was healthy, so why would anyone want a burden like me now?

Then, she decided to take me to her friend, a neurotraumatologist. I didn't understand the point. Why keep trying?

But then I walked—or rather, rolled—into that office and saw her. She was stunning. Tall, maybe a bit over five-foot-nine, with long black hair pulled into a ponytail. Seeing her triggered thoughts I hadn't felt in years—desires that made my blood run hot. Her dark eyes, framed by thick lashes, and those lips... those lips were going to haunt my dreams.

She decided to take me on as a project. I wondered why. She ordered more tests in one week than I had taken in the last two years. A week went by, and all I could think about was Lena. I wanted to see her again, to feel her proximity. I noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring, which surprised me. Women like her are usually protected by a husband.

When Wednesday finally came, I was ready before my brother even put his shoes on.

"Igor, are you feeling okay?" Fedya asked, surprised. "Usually, I have to drag you out of the house. You’re actually waiting for me?"

"Just move faster," I snapped. "I don't want to be late because of you."

As we approached her office, we heard voices through the door. Loud, heated voices.

"For God's sake, Lena, just find a man and have some fun! You don't have to love him," it was the voice of the psychotherapist, Lera. "s*x is good for your health!"

"Maybe I want more than that!" Lena’s voice rang out, sharp and filled with emotion. "I want to love and be loved. I’m tired of being alone. I want a family, a husband who is a real man, not these 'weaklings.' I want children. I’m a woman, and I want affection. Stop trying to push every stranger into my bed."

My heart sank. My mood crashed instantly. She wanted a "real man," a pillar of strength. What could I give her? Look at me. I was half a man in a chair.

"Whoa, brother," Fedya whispered, leaning down. "You’ve got it bad for her, don't you?"

"She doesn't need someone like me," I muttered. "You heard her. What kind of man am I?"

Fedya looked me in the eye. "We’re going in there, we’re going to hear about your results, and then we’ll act. I guarantee she’ll notice you. I’m going to help you."

We knocked, and a chorus of "Come in!" answered. When I entered, I saw the woman who had occupied my mind all week. Lera left with a frustrated glance at her friend, and suddenly, it was just us—and Fedya.

"Good morning, Elena Vladimirovna. Are we interrupting?" Fedya was being his usual charming self.

"No, not at all. I was just reviewing Igor's results. Igor, how are you feeling?"

She looked at me with such tenderness. There was no pity in her gaze, no disgust. Just... warmth. Was she actually blushing? My hope flickered back to life.

"Everything is as usual, Doc," I said, trying to be polite for once. "So, what’s the verdict? Anything interesting?"

"Actually, the results are quite encouraging," she said, her voice steady and professional yet kind. "Considering you haven't had consistent treatment, your body has held up well. If you don't mind, I'd like to examine your legs."

She knelt in front of me. As her hands touched my skin, I had to grip the armrests to keep my composure. I couldn't feel much in one leg, but the other had a spark of sensation. Her touch was skillful, and I found myself wishing those hands would move higher.

"Igor," she said, looking directly into my eyes, "how would you feel if I told you I might be able to help you walk again? It’s not a hundred percent guarantee, but I want to try."

My heart skipped a beat. "Are you joking? Because that’s not funny."

"I’m suggesting surgery," she continued, ignoring my skepticism. "Followed by a rigorous rehabilitation period—at least three months. Your muscle tone is still there. If we work together, I truly believe it’s possible."

"I’m in," I said immediately. "What do I need to do?"

Fedya squeezed my shoulder. I could feel his relief. Lena explained the process—I’d need to stay in the hospital for observation and then undergo the procedure in a week. I signed the papers without hesitation.

As we drove home, the fear started to creep in. What if it failed? But I wanted this. I wanted to stand. I wanted to reach for Lena and know that I could be the man she was looking for. I had fallen for her at first sight, and for the first time in years, I wanted a future. I wanted a home, a wife, and children.

I have a goal now. I will walk to Lena. And then, together, we will walk toward our future.