PART 2
I never thought I’d see Marcus again.
At seventeen, a drunk driver ran a red light and everything changed in an instant. One moment I was worried about my exams, my dress, and my prom photos. The next, I was waking up in a hospital bed, surrounded by doctors who spoke cautiously and uncertainly.
My legs were fractured in several places. My spine was damaged. I heard words like rehabilitation , uncertain recovery , and possibility that no teenage girl should ever have to hear.
By the time of the end-of-year ball, I had already decided not to go.
I had nothing left there — or so I thought.
But my mother didn’t let me disappear quietly.
“You deserve a night,” she said, standing on my doorstep, my dress in her hand.
“I don’t want to be stared at,” I whispered.
“Then look at me,” she replied.
So I went.
She helped me get dressed, sat down in my chair, and took me to a gym full of music, laughter, and movement that seemed to belong to another world.
For the first hour, I stayed near the wall, watching others live this version of life that I thought I had lost.
People were coming and going. Smiling. Dancing. Forgetting my presence.
Then Marcus approached.
At first, I thought he was talking to someone behind me. I even turned around to check.
He stopped in front of me and smiled.
“Hey,” he said.
I hesitated. “You’re not in the right place.”
He laughed softly. “No, I think I’ve found exactly where I need to be.”
Then he looked at me with a more serious expression.
“Is hiding even a good thing if everyone can see you?”
Before I could answer, he held out his hand.
“Do you want to dance?”
My chest tightened. “Marcus… I can’t.”
He nodded once, as if it were an answer he had already prepared.
