Surrendered To Desire

3

Asa narrating:

I was awake, reflecting on my life.

The smell of disinfectant and the soft sound of medical equipment around me reminded me that I was still in a hospital. But this time, what awaited me was different: physical therapy.

Still feeling a bit lost, I looked at the clock on the wall. It was time to meet my physiotherapist. Part of me was apprehensive, not just about the physical challenge I would have to face, but also about the idea of interacting with another person. My heart was still fragile, a broken glass that I feared any sudden movement could shatter again.

When he entered the room, my inner world jolted. It was as if time had stopped for an instant. He was tall, with dark brown hair that fell casually over his forehead. His smile was warm, and his eyes, a deep hue that seemed to understand more than I was willing to reveal. There was something strangely attractive about him, something that made me feel a mix of curiosity and dread. I remembered the promises I made to myself: not to get involved, not to open myself up to more pain.

— Hi, Asa. My name is Luke, and I will be your physiotherapist, — he said, extending his hand. His voice was soft and encouraging, but at the same time, there was a firmness that made me feel like I was in good hands.

— Hi, — I replied, trying to hide the unease that was beginning to bubble up inside me. I shook his hand, and the connection was instant, as if an invisible thread tied us together. But I couldn't allow myself to think about that. — I just want to recover... — I murmured, looking away.

— That's exactly why I'm here. We're going to work together to make that happen. Are you ready to start? — He smiled, and for a moment, I saw a glimpse of hope. But soon, the internal conditioning came to the surface: I didn’t need anything besides my recovery.

As he helped me move my limbs, the reality of my inert body became increasingly evident. The weakness was overwhelming, and frustration built up in my chest. But Luke was there, always encouraging every small progress.

— You're doing really well, Asa. One step at a time, — he would say, and I tried to believe it.

With each session, I felt more comfortable with him, although part of me was still on guard. The way he looked at me, as if he saw not just my body but my soul as well, left me confused. I didn’t want to open up to him; I didn’t want to risk getting hurt again. One more betrayal, one more disappointment, and I wouldn’t have the strength to get back up.

— Let’s try one more time, — he suggested as I attempted to move my leg. Sweat dripped down my forehead, and I felt the pressure building in my chest.

— Just one more time, — I repeated to myself as I closed my eyes. And despite the fear, I knew I needed to keep going. Not for him, but for myself.

And so, with each movement, I was not only rebuilding my body but also trying to piece together the fragments of my heart. One day at a time, I told myself. But as the session came to an end and Luke helped me to stand, a question echoed in my mind: how far would I be willing to go to protect what was left of me?

[...]

Two weeks. For some, that might seem like a short time, but for me, it felt like endless days of rediscovery and struggle. Waking up from the coma was like opening my eyes to a world where I no longer belonged. Everything was different: the hospital walls, the faces of the people surrounding me, even my own body. I was a stranger in my own life.

In those first few days, everything felt like a blur. I remember flashes of light, distant voices, and the sensation of floating between dream and reality.

I spent days surrounded by doctors, nurses, and, of course, Luke. He became an anchor amidst the storm. With each physical therapy session, he guided me with patience and steadiness, as if he knew I needed more than just physical care... I needed hope.

The first attempts to move were painful. My body was weak, as if I were trying to lift an unimaginable weight. But Luke was always there, encouraging me not to give up. "One step at a time, Asa. You can do it," he said, and those words echoed in my mind, even during moments when I felt like I could never move forward.

I remember a specific day when I managed to move my leg for the first time. The sense of accomplishment was overwhelming. I laughed and cried at the same time, and Luke smiled at me with pride. At that moment, I realized that I was starting to regain not only the strength of my body but also a part of myself that had been shattered; my heart was beginning to beat strongly for someone... I should be worried.

Now, as I prepared to leave the hospital, I felt a mix of relief and anxiety. The next day, I would be discharged, and the idea of continuing my physical therapy sessions at home was both comforting and scary. The hospital had become a sort of refuge, a safe bubble where I could focus on my recovery. But life outside those walls was a mystery, and I wondered how it would be to face the world again.

The nurse entered my room, interrupting my thoughts.

— Asa, you’re being discharged tomorrow. Are you happy? — she said, and my heart raced in my chest.

Was I ready? I wasn't sure. There were still so many doubts lingering in my mind.

— Yes, I am, — I replied, trying to sound confident. But the truth was I was apprehensive. What would happen when I left the hospital? And what about the physical therapy sessions at home? Would I have the same determination I had when I was under Luke's supervision?

On top of that, I would see Alma and possibly Max. I still, unfortunately, knew that I wasn’t ready.

That last night, as I tried to sleep, my mind was restless. I thought about everything I had gone through. The memories of the coma, the struggle to recognize my own body, the fight to get up. But I also thought about Luke and how he had been a light in the darkness. He not only helped me physically but also showed me that I was still capable of fighting and winning.

I closed my eyes, making a silent promise to myself: I wouldn’t let fear paralyze me. I would face each challenge head-on, one day at a time. Tomorrow would be a new beginning, and I was determined to turn this new phase into a journey of self-discovery and healing.

When I finally fell asleep, a faint feeling of hope enveloped me. I was about to leave the hospital, but that didn’t mean I was alone. There was a life ahead, and I was about to discover what it would be like to live again.

[...]

The hospital door closed behind me, and, for the first time in two years, I breathed the fresh air of freedom. The sunlight was shining brightly, and I felt each ray as a promise of new beginnings. But at the same time, a knot of anxiety formed in my stomach. I didn’t know exactly what awaited me at home.

My mother’s car took me to the house where I grew up, and as we got closer, a whirlwind of emotions took over me. There was a mix of nostalgia and fear. When I stepped through the front door with a crutch in one hand to help me balance, I felt my mother hold my hand tightly. She was radiant, but I couldn’t reciprocate in the same way. There was something stifling about her happiness, something that made me want to step back.

As soon as I walked in, my sister appeared.

— Hi, Asa! I’m so happy you’re home! — she exclaimed, but I couldn’t respond. Instead, my gaze shifted to the sofa, where I glimpsed my ex-boyfriend, Max.

The world around me collapsed.

Fragments of memories from when he was still mine began to swirl in my mind. And now, here he was, next to my sister, and a child of theirs was about to enter our lives. The knot in my stomach turned into an overwhelming weight. I needed to get out of there.

— I... need a moment. — I murmured as I hurried up the stairs, but with some difficulty. My heart was racing. I reached my room and closed the door behind me. The familiar smell brought a wave of nostalgia, but it was not enough to calm me. I was in a place that should have felt safe, but instead, I felt more vulnerable than ever.

Desperate, I went back downstairs past Alma and Max, who were sitting on the sofa, and I went to my mom, who was in the kitchen.

— Mom, I can’t stay here. — I said, my voice trembling. She looked at me, confused.

— What do you mean, Asa? You just came home! We’re so happy to have you back. — She replied, trying to wrap me in her enthusiasm.

— No! You don’t understand. I need distance from them. This... all of this is too much for me. — Frustration was building, and I could feel the tears forming. — I’m going to move to Dad’s apartment. He left it to me when he died, and I need a space of my own.

My dad was divorced from my mom; he died when Alma and I were only eight years old. He left several properties and money to me and Alma. I inherited his apartment downtown; my sister inherited another apartment in a different neighborhood.

My mother hesitated, her expression shifting from surprise to concern.

— Asa, do you really think this is what you need right now? Wouldn’t it be better for us to stay together? You don’t have to face this alone.

— I can’t stay here and see what you have become. I can’t deal with that right now. — The last sentence came out as a whisper, but it carried a colossal weight. I needed a place where I could rebuild, where the memories of my past weren’t suffocating.

She sighed, and I saw the sadness in her eyes. But there was no turning back.

— If this is what you really want, I can’t stop you. But Asa, you’re still part of our family, no matter what happened.

— I know, Mom. But I need time. I need space. — With that, I turned and headed to my room to pack my bag.

Some time later, I was ready to leave. As I closed the door behind me, a part of me wished everything was different. But on the other hand, I knew I needed to face my demons alone. The road ahead would be difficult, but it was the only one I could take.

[...]

After two years in a coma, every little movement was still a challenge. I stood up from the armchair, my legs shaking slightly as I tried to walk to the window. The reflection in the glass showed a version of myself that looked strange: a body I recognized, but that didn’t respond like I expected. The pain and stiffness were still constant companions, but the feeling of being alive, of having the chance to move again, was a victory.

While I waited for Luke, I took a deep breath and tried to focus. He always said that the mind needed to be in sync with the body. I never thought that rehabilitating myself would be so hard, and what used to be a routine now felt like an epic journey. At that moment, I just wanted him to arrive soon.

When I heard the doorbell, my heart raced. I got up, a bit hesitant, and went to the door. When I opened it, Luke was there, with his usual cheerful expression and a bag full of equipment. He was a comforting presence, always encouraging me to take another step.

— Ready for another day of challenges? — he joked, entering and placing the bag on the sofa.

— Always. — I replied, forcing a smile, but there was a weight in my chest that I couldn’t ignore.

We started the session, and I focused on each movement, each stretch, trying to push away the thoughts that tormented me. But Luke, always perceptive, soon noticed that something was off.

— Asa, you seem distant today. What’s going on? — he asked while helping me balance.

I hesitated. What could I say? That my life had changed drastically, that the person I loved was now expecting a child with my sister? The idea of opening up to him was daunting, but at the same time, there was something comforting about his presence.

— It’s just... — I began, swallowing hard. — I didn’t know it would be this hard.

Luke looked at me with empathy.

— You’re making progress, Asa. That’s what matters. But I know that beyond the body, the mind also needs a space to heal.

I felt a wave of vulnerability. I decided that maybe it was time to talk.

— My boyfriend, ex-boyfriend... he’s with my sister. And now... they’re going to have a baby. — The last word came out as a whisper, and the sadness I tried to hide revealed itself in my voice.

Luke paused for a moment, and the expression on his face was one of compassion.

— That’s a lot to handle. How are you feeling about all this?

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the tears threaten to escape.

— I feel betrayed, confused... afraid to face reality.

He nodded, understanding.

— It’s normal to feel that way. You’ve been through a traumatic experience, and now, as you try to recover, you have to deal with this too. It’s not fair.

His words resonated within me. It was true, it wasn’t fair. But at the same time, there was a certain relief in sharing my pain. With Luke there, I felt a little stronger, a little less alone.

— I don’t know how to move forward, — I confessed.

— One step at a time, — he said, placing his hand on my shoulder. — And remember: you don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here to help you with whatever you need.

Little by little, I was beginning to understand that recovery wasn’t just physical. I needed to heal my heart too.