Lily’s father had not approved of her going outside. But Malik didn’t ask permission. He simply rolled her onto the grass like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Why are you doing this?” Lily asked, nervous.
“Because you’re still here,” Malik said. “That’s enough.”
He placed her feet into the water.
At first, nothing happened. Just stillness. Just breath.
Then her toes moved.
Lily froze.
“Did you feel that?” Malik asked quietly.
Her voice broke. “I… I think I did.”
The world didn’t believe her for a second.
Not even her.
Then the back door slammed open.
Her father.
Panic in his eyes. Fear in his voice.
“Lily, stop!” he shouted.
But she wasn’t listening anymore.
Another movement. Stronger this time.
Tears spilled down her face.
“I feel it,” she whispered. “I really feel it…”
Silence collapsed over the garden.
Slowly, trembling, Lily pressed her hands against the wheelchair.
And pushed.
For the first time in three years, her body obeyed something new.
Her foot touched the grass.
Her father stopped breathing.
Malik stepped back, like he was witnessing something sacred.
And Lily, shaking and crying, finally said the words that changed everything:
“Dad… I can feel the ground.”
