With measured breaths, he lifted a trembling hand to grasp the edge of the bed, pushing against the mattress. His legs, once rebellious and foreign, now tingled with a familiar but forgotten strength. Tentatively, he swung them over the side, his feet meeting the floor—cool, solid, and real. Could it be?

He stood, unsteadily at first, the ground firm beneath him. Each step was a cautious negotiation with gravity, each movement a prayer of hope. The room seemed to sway, or perhaps it was his own disbelief unmooring him from reality. Slowly, hesitantly, he walked—one step, then another, and another—across the room until he stood before the window, the city sprawling beneath him.