He pushed himself upright, realizing he hadn’t needed to use the bed’s mechanical assist. His heart raced. Could it be? Was it possible? Doubt gnawed at him until an unfamiliar determination took over.

He braced himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed. They felt solid, connected—no longer foreign appendages. Taking a deep breath, he placed one foot on the floor, then the other. His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum. Gripping the bedpost, he pulled himself up. His legs trembled beneath him, but they held. He was standing.

For a moment, he just stood there, basking in the simple miracle of it. Tears pricked his eyes—tears of disbelief, gratitude, and awe. He took a tentative step, then another. His muscles protested slightly, but they obeyed.

He made it to the window, tears streaming down his face as he looked out over the cityscape. The world seemed different now, full of possibilities and wonder. He turned back to his bed, his mind racing with thoughts of the boy.

He had dismissed the child as a mere distraction, a naive interloper. But now, Alexander realized that Luke had offered him something invaluable—hope. And he had delivered on his promise.