The afternoon light had softened by the time Izan found himself sitting on the wooden bench beside the woman.
The faint sound of children's laughter floated through the park, and the air smelled faintly of grass and early summer warmth as a soft breeze stirred the leaves above, brushing past like a whisper.
Leo's mother sat beside him, her hands clasped over her knees.
There was a look of quiet wonder on her face that hadn't quite faded even after months.
"He's doing so well now," she said, shaking her head as though she still couldn't believe it.
"The doctors said his recovery's been… unbelievable, really. Things they said would take months happened in weeks."
She paused, her eyes glistening slightly as she looked out toward her son, who was now running around in circles near a row of benches.
"They told me he'd need a few months of therapy before walking again, but… by week two, he took his first steps. Just like that. And by week four, he was already running."
