Chapter 38
Anna
I had just finished my physiotherapy session.
The therapist said there were real improvements—my muscles were responding better, my joints were looser, stronger.
But walking still felt like a dream too far away to touch.
Something people talked about in hopeful voices, like it might happen… someday.
Nancy wheeled me to the nearby park afterward.
It was her day off, and for once, she didn’t have anywhere else she had to be.
Work had been slow for her lately. Bridal clients were hard to come by, especially the stressed, demanding ones.
Most of them didn’t have the patience for sign language, even though Nancy was excellent at what she did.
She was kind, precise, thoughtful, yet only a few clients were willing to look past her silence long enough to see that.
We sat in the shade, feeding squirrels. The fresh air felt like medicine. It cleared my head, kept me from sinking too deep into myself.
But he was still there in my thoughts. Every day.
Three weeks.
Not a single visit. Not even a message.
I told myself it meant nothing. That it was exactly what should have happened. Doctors don’t fall for their patients. Men like him don’t choose women like me. Still, the quiet after he left felt louder than any heartbreak I’d ever known.
I imagined my future sometimes, just me, my dad, my sister, and a small circle of people who loved me because they had to.
I wondered if Dad ever worried that both his daughters might end up living with him forever.
Nancy at least had a chance. She could walk, work, and move through the world freely.
One day a man would see past her silence and fall for her kindness. She wouldn’t be seen as a burden.
I glanced down at my legs.
And me?
What was I thinking—falling for my doctor? Confessing something that should never have been said? The guilt still followed me. Maybe if I kept quiet, he would have visited once or twice more. Maybe he wouldn’t have disappeared so completely.
I would give anything just to see him one more time.
The kids from my school kept me going. They sent drawings, cards, and little gifts.
They visited when they could. Lara Henderson came the most. I didn’t believe in favourites, but she stayed in my thoughts more than the others.
I laughed when they complained about the substitute teacher, how she “didn’t do things the right way. ”
Nancy stopped near our usual bench and parked my chair beside it before sitting down herself. She handed me a bottle of water and a small packet of nuts. We always came here to feed the squirrels.
“Oh my God,” I laughed softly, pointing, “that one is so cute. Look how greedy he is.”
Nancy tossed a nut toward the little squirrel and glanced at me. There was something in her eyes, gentle, knowing, almost sad. Like she could hear the thoughts I never said out loud.
My phone buzzed in my lap. I picked it up and read the message, my chest tightening slightly.
I looked up at Nancy. “It’s Dad. He says someone is waiting for me at home, apparently it’s a surprise.”
Her brows lifted in a silent question. Then she signed, should we go now?
I shook my head. “It’s probably Michael. He can wait.”
Michael made a habit of showing up at least once a week. Always polite. Always concerned. But his concern never reached my heart, only my legs.
Are you walking yet? Any movement? Any strength coming back?
Like that was all that mattered.
I wasn’t in the mood to be measured today.
So, we stayed.
We fed the squirrels until they grew bold enough to come close. We watched kids chasing each other near the swings. We let the sun soften everything it touched. Another hour slipped by, and with every passing minute, I hoped Michael would give up and leave.
When we finally headed back, Nancy pushed my chair slowly, carefully, like there was nowhere else we needed to be. The streets were quiet, painted gold by late afternoon light. I leaned back and let the breeze brush my face.
We rolled into the house, and before I even registered the furniture or the familiar scent of home, I smelled him.
Warm. Familiar. Clean and masculine in a way that made my chest ache before my mind could catch up.
It wasn’t Michael’s.
Dad didn’t say a word. He only pointed quietly toward the lounge. Nancy’s hands tightened slightly on the handles of my chair, and she pushed me forward.
And then I saw him.
Dr. Collins.
Sitting on the couch like he had been there for hours, hands clasped, shoulders tense, eyes fixed on me, like he was afraid I might disappear again.
My heart didn’t just break, it collapsed.
Tears came before I could stop them, big, jagged sobs that rattled through me. My hands flew to my face, hiding my shaking lips and the tremble of my body.
Dad rested a hand on my shoulder for a fleeting moment, then stepped back. Nancy squeezed my hand and quietly turned away. They were giving me space, giving him space.
“Dr. Collins,” I whispered, my voice catching like a broken wire.
He stood up immediately, crossed the room in three long steps, and knelt in front of my wheelchair so we were eye to eye. His hands came up, warm and careful, wiping my tears that had been damning me for days.
“Call me Ian,” he said softly, and there was something in his eyes, a tremble, a depth, that made my breath hitch.
“Why… why did you leave?” My voice cracked. “Why didn’t you come? Not once. Not even for a minute?”
His thumb traced my cheek, gentle, almost reverent. “I didn’t leave because you meant nothing. I left because you meant everything.”
I blinked, searching his face, and he leaned in just slightly, his forehead resting against mine. “I couldn’t bear to see you hurting and know that I… that I wanted you, that I was falling for you, and yet I couldn’t reach you without crossing every line I swore I’d never cross.”
My lips trembled. “You were falling for me?”
His eyes darkened, and the weight in them made my knees weak. “Every damn day. For the past three weeks, I’ve lived with the ache of not being near you, the ache of not being able to tell you. I’ve wanted you, wanted to hold you, wanted to kiss you, wanted to be the one who wiped away your tears…”
He swallowed, and his hand tightened around mine. “And I couldn’t, Anna. I thought, no, I was terrified I’d destroy you with my selfishness.”
And then, slowly, impossibly, he leaned in and kissed me.
This kiss wasn’t gentle—it was careful. It was desperate.
It felt like everything he’d held back compressed into one long, burning second.
I melted into him, letting my hands find the warmth of his chest, clinging, grounding myself in the proof that he was real, that he was here.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes blazing, voice low and raw. “I’m madly, completely, hopelessly in love with you, Anna. Every thought, every heartbeat—it’s all you. And I can’t hide it anymore.”
My mind went blank. Then my sobs came harder, louder, jagged with disbelief. “You don’t have to pity me,” I cried. “You don’t have to feel guilty…”
“Count the beads,” he interrupted gently, brushing my hair back behind my ear.
I blinked. “What?”
He smiled softly, that slow, quiet smile that made the world shrink around him.
“That’s how long I’ve been loving you. The moment I realized I was falling…
that was when I dropped the first bead into that jar.
Every bead, every single one, is a day I’ve carried you in my heart, silent, patient, hopelessly in love. ”
My hands trembled. “You…you’re the one who gave me the beads?” I whispered.
He nodded, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out four small certificates.
“And these,” he said, hands shaking just slightly, “are the diamonds already in your jar. Four months of loving you. Every month, every thought, every prayer I whispered that you’d be safe, that you’d heal, that somehow… maybe… you’d see me the way I see you.”
I broke. I fell into him, arms wrapped around his neck, tears soaking into his shirt.
“You bought me diamonds?” I asked against him, my voice small and disbelieving as I looked down at the papers again.
A soft breath of laughter left him, warm against my hair.
“You love them,” he said simply. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You didn’t have to,” I cried again.
“I thought you didn’t feel anything for me.”
“I’ve never stopped feeling,” he murmured into my hair, voice breaking now, trembling with his own emotion. “Anna… I want a life with you. Not tomorrow. Not someday. Now. Move in with me. Let me love you. Let me take care of you. Let me be more than just the doctor who kept you alive.”
I lifted my head, staring into his eyes.
“I spoke to your dad. He’s okay with it—if you are.”
Tears blurred my vision as I nodded. “I want to… I really do. But we barely know each other. Isn’t it too soon?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “I think we do,” he said quietly. “And if it’s not enough… then let’s get to know each other, properly. Every day. Under the same roof.” His thumb brushed my cheek. “What do you say?.”
Something in my chest gave way.
I threw my arms around him, holding on as if letting go wasn’t an option. “Okay,” I whispered against him.
But then my eyes dropped to my legs, and the fear crept back in. “Are you sure?”
He cupped my face with both hands, thumb brushing the tears away, and stared at me like I was the only thing he’d ever wanted in the world. “I’ve never been surer,” he said, his voice certain. “I don’t care about anything but you. You’re my heart, my life. Let’s pack your things.”
I couldn’t speak. I could only nod, tears streaming, heart pounding, disbelief colliding with joy. The world that had felt broken, empty, hopeless… was suddenly full, radiant, and impossibly real.
He kissed me again, slower this time, not holding back, and whispered against my lips, “I will cherish you. Every day in every way.”
Something inside me finally loosened, the fear, the doubt, the ache of being unwanted. I closed my eyes and let myself fall into that promise.
“I love you,” I said, the words coming easily now. Because this time, I didn’t have to be afraid of them.