“Sorry, I’m in a Wheelchair,” She Said — The Single Dad’s Next Move Changed Everything…

“Sorry, I’m in a Wheelchair,” She Said — The Single Dad’s Next Move Changed Everything…

 

 

 

 

The wheelchair slammed into the restaurant doorframe with a sound that made every head turn. Maya Chen backed up, tried again, and felt her face burn as she finally pushed through. 52 minutes late, hair falling from its bun, still wearing her work clothes that smelled like acrylic paint and kids glue.

 Her blind date had been sitting alone for almost an hour. She was ready for him to leave, ready for the polite excuse, the tight smile, the I have an early morning escape she’d heard a hundred times before. But what Marcus Williams did next would shatter everything she believed about herself and about love. 

Maya Chen had exactly 14 minutes to get from the Sunshine Community Center in East Denver to the Golden Spoon restaurant on Lammer Street, and she was still kneeling on the floor next to a 9-year-old boy who couldn’t stop crying.

“I don’t want to go home,” Tyler whispered his small body shaking. “My mom looks at me different now, like I’m broken.” Maya’s heart cracked right down the middle. She knew that look. She’d been seeing it her whole life. Tyler, look at me. She waited until his red rimmed eyes met hers. You are not broken.

 You hear me? You lost your leg, but you didn’t lose who you are. And your mom, she’s scared. She’s grieving, but she loves you. That hasn’t changed. Tyler wiped his nose with his sleeve. How do you know? Maya rolled back slightly in her wheelchair and gestured at her own legs because my mom cried every single day for a year after my accident.

 I thought she was crying because I was a burden. Turns out she was crying because she couldn’t take the pain away from me. Parents are weird like that. Tyler almost smiled. Almost. Can you come back Monday? He asked. I’ll be here same time. We’re going to work on that painting of yours, the one with the dragon. I think he needs more fire.

“More fire?” Tyler repeated. And this time, he actually smiled. Maya’s phone buzzed for the fifth time in 10 minutes. She didn’t need to look at it to know it was Tina, her best friend, probably sending increasingly aggressive texts about Mia being late for yet another blind date. She helped Tyler into his mother’s car, waved goodbye, and finally checked her phone.

6:47 p.m. Tina, you better be on your way. 6:52 p.m. Tina Maya, I swear to God. 7:03 p.m. Tina, he’s already there. He’s waiting. Do not bail. 7:15 p.m. Tina, if you cancel on Marcus, I am never setting you up again. I mean it this time. 7:31 p.m. Tina Maya Chen, answer me. Maya typed back quickly. Coming.

 Got held up with a kid. On my way now. Don’t yell at me. Tina’s response was immediate. You’re 30 minutes late. He’s been sitting there alone. Go now. And for the love of God, don’t apologize 50,000 times like you always do. Maya shoved her phone in her bag and started wheeling toward her van as fast as her arms could push.

 The accessible parking spot was at the far end of the lot because someone had parked their BMW in the actual accessible space without a permit and Maya didn’t have time to be angry about it today. She got herself into the driver’s seat, folded her wheelchair, secured it, and pulled out of the parking lot at 7:38.

The Golden Spoon was 20 minutes away without traffic. It was a Friday night in Denver. There was definitely traffic. Maya had been in a wheelchair since she was 17 years old. A drunk driver. A Tuesday afternoon, a girl who’d been walking home from volleyball practice with her entire life, stretched out in front of her college scholarship dreams of becoming a physical therapist, maybe even the Olympics if she worked hard enough. All of it gone in 4 seconds.

 The doctors said she was lucky to be alive. Maya had spent the first two years after the accident trying to figure out if lucky was the right word for what she was. She’d adapted. She’d survived. She’d built a career as an art therapist, found an apartment she could navigate, bought a van with hand controls, created a life that worked within the limitations the world constantly reminded her she had.

 But dating, dating was a disaster. There was the guy who’d shown up, seen the wheelchair, and suddenly remembered he had food poisoning. There was the one who’ talked to her like she was 5 years old, asking if she needed help cutting her food. There was Derek’s sweet patient, Derek, who dated her for 8 months before finally admitting that he just couldn’t see a future with someone who couldn’t do all the things he wanted to do.

 He’d listed them hiking, dancing at their wedding, chasing kids around a backyard. I’m not saying you’re not amazing. Dererick had said like that made it better. I’m just saying this is a lot. You’re a lot and I don’t think I’m built to handle it long term. That was 2 years ago. Maya hadn’t been on a date since. Not until Tina had basically threatened her life if she didn’t agree to meet Marcus Williams, a contractor who apparently restored old houses and was the nicest guy in the entire state of Colorado.

 And if you don’t give him a chance, I will personally show up at your apartment and drag you there myself. He knows about the chair, Maya had asked. Of course, he knows. I showed him a picture. And he still wants to meet me. Tina had sighed. Maya, not every man is Derek. Some guys are actually decent human beings.

 Just give him a chance, please, for me. So Maya had agreed. And now she was 52 minutes late, still wearing her paint stained work clothes and probably about to add another humiliating story to her collection of dating disasters. She pulled into the Golden Spoons parking lot at 7:48. For a moment, she just sat there, hands gripping the steering wheel, trying to convince herself to actually go inside.

She could leave. She could text Marcus, apologize profusely, say something came up, promise to reschedule. It would be the third date she’d canceled in two months. Tina would never set her up again. But at least she wouldn’t have to see the look on Marcus’ face when he realized what he’d signed up for.

 Maya had seen that look so many times. The quick flash of surprise, the forced smile, the overly cheerful voice that said, “No, it’s totally fine.” while their eyes said something completely different. She hated that look, but she’d promised Tina. And Tyler’s words from earlier echoed in her head. How do you know she still loves me? If Maya kept hiding, kept cancelling, kept assuming the worst about people before they even had a chance to prove her wrong.

 What kind of example was she setting? How could she tell kids like Tyler that they weren’t broken if she kept acting like she was? Get it together, Chen. She muttered to herself. It’s just dinner. 1 hour. You can survive 1 hour. She got her wheelchair out, locked her van, and wheeled toward the restaurant entrance. The door frame was narrower than it looked.

 Maya’s wheelchair caught on the right side, jerking her to a stop so suddenly that her bag flew off her lap and landed on the floor, spilling its contents. phone, wallet, lipstick, a crumpled tissue, three broken crayons from work. 04. She backed up, adjusted her angle, and tried again. The wheels scraped against the frame with a sound like nails on a chalkboard.

Every single person in the front section of the restaurant turned to look. Maya felt her face go hot. Her arms were shaking partly from frustration and partly from the fact that she’d been pushing herself around all day and her muscles were screaming for a break. She backed up one more time, positioned herself perfectly center, and finally made it through. A hostess rushed over.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Do you need help? That door is terrible. I’ve told the manager a hundred times.” “I’m fine,” Mia said, forcing a smile. I’m meeting someone, Marcus Williams. Oh, yes. He’s right over there. The hostess pointed toward a booth near the window. He’s been here a while.

 Can I help you? I’ve got it. Thank you. Maya picked up her scattered belongings, shoved them back in her bag, and started wheeling toward the booth where a man was sitting alone staring at his phone, a half empty beer in front of him. He had dark skin, close-cropped hair, broad shoulders, and hands that looked like they’d spent years building things.

 He was wearing a flannel shirt with what looked like white paint stains on the sleeve. And when he looked up at the sound of her approach, his eyes were the warmest brown she’d ever seen. He didn’t look annoyed. He didn’t look impatient. He looked relieved. Maya. He was already standing up, smiling like she wasn’t almost an hour late, like she wasn’t still wearing her work clothes, like she hadn’t just made a complete fool of herself trying to get through the door. I’m so sorry.

 The words tumbled out before she could stop them. I know I’m incredibly late and I look terrible and I should have gone home to change, but then I would have been even later. And I had a situation with one of my kids at work. not my kids, the kids I work with, and I couldn’t just leave. And I totally understand if you want to just call it a night because this is probably the worst first impression in the history of first impressions and I’m sorry about she gestured vaguely at her wheelchair about the whole entrance situation. The

door was anyway, I’m sorry. She finally stopped talking out of breath, waiting for the polite excuse. Marcus didn’t move. “Are you done?” he asked. Maya blinked. “What? Are you done apologizing?” “Because I’ve got some things I need to say, and I’d like to get them out before you start again.” Maya’s mouth opened then closed. “I Yes.

Good.” Marcus came around the table, grabbed a chair from a nearby empty table, and moved it out of the way so there was space for her wheelchair. First, sit down. You look exhausted. Second, I’m going to get you something to drink. Third, and this is the important one. He waited until she’d positioned herself at the table and looked up at him.

 You do not need to apologize for being late when you were helping a kid who needed you. You don’t need to apologize for wearing work clothes. And you definitely don’t need to apologize for existing in a wheelchair. That door is the problem, not you. Got it. Maya stared at him for a full 10 seconds. She couldn’t speak. I got it. Good.

 Water or something stronger. Um, water first, then maybe a margarita if you’re if we’re staying. Marcus was already walking toward the bar. We’re staying. I’ll be right back. He came back with a large glass of water, a margarita, and a fresh beer for himself. “Drink the water first,” he said, sliding it toward her. “You’re probably dehydrated.

 The margaritas for after.” “How do you know I’m dehydrated?” “Because Tina told me you work with kids and you never take breaks.” She also told me you’d probably show up apologizing for something that wasn’t your fault and that I should tell you to stop. She was very specific about that. Maya felt something crack in her chest.

Something that had been locked tight for a very long time. Tina talks too much, she said, but she was almost smiling. Tina cares about you. Marcus took a drink of his beer. So tell me about the kid, the one who made you late. You don’t have to, Maya. His voice was gentle but firm. I want to know. Tell me.

 So she told him about Tyler, 9 years old, who’d lost his leg to bone cancer 6 months ago and was learning how to live in a body that didn’t work the way it used to. About how his mom dropped him off at the community center three times a week for art therapy. And how he barely spoke for the first month, just painted these dark, angry pictures full of monsters and fire.

 about how today something had broken open and he’d cried for 20 minutes straight because his mom looked at him differently now and he thought it meant she didn’t love him anymore. I couldn’t leave him, Maya said. I know I should have texted you sooner, but I couldn’t. Don’t. Marcus held up his hand. Don’t apologize.

 That kid needed you and you stayed. That’s not something to be sorry for. That’s something to be proud of. Maya took a long drink of her water buying time because she didn’t know what to do with this man who kept saying things that didn’t fit the script she’d written in her head. “You’re not what I expected,” she finally said.

 “What did you expect?” “I don’t know. Someone who’d be checking his watch. Someone who’d be annoyed. Someone who’d be looking at me like,” She trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence. “Like what? like I’m a project or a problem or a lot of extra work. Marcus was quiet for a moment. Then he leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table, his eyes steady on hers.

 Maya, can I tell you something? Okay. I’ve been sitting here for almost an hour and yeah, I was starting to wonder if you were going to show up, but I wasn’t annoyed. I was hoping you would because Tina’s been talking about you for months and everything she’s told me made me want to meet you. Not despite the wheelchair.

 Not because I’m some kind of hero who dates disabled women as a charity project. Just because you sounded like someone worth knowing. Maya felt tears prick at her eyes and blinked them back furiously. Most people aren’t like that, she said quietly. I know. His voice was soft. I can tell. The food came tacos and enchiladas and chips with three different kinds of salsa, and they kept talking.

Maya learned that Marcus owned a small construction company that specialized in restoring old houses. He’d started it 8 years ago after working for a contractor who treated his employees like garbage and cut corners on every job. I wanted to build something different, Marcus said. something I could be proud of.

 We do good work, treat people fair, don’t overcharge. It’s not going to make me rich, but it pays the bills, and I get to sleep at night. That’s rare, Maya said. Most people don’t care about that stuff. Most people haven’t had to rebuild their life from scratch. Marcus took a bite of his taco. When you lose everything, you figure out what actually matters.

Maya set down her fork. What did you lose? Marcus was quiet for a moment. She watched something pass across his face. Pain carefully controlled, pushed down deep. My wife, he finally said, 3 years ago, car accident. We were driving home from her parents house and a truck ran a red light. Maya’s breath caught.

 Marcus, I’m so sorry. Thank you. He took a drink of his beer. She died at the scene. I walked away with a limp I’ll have for the rest of my life and a six-month-old daughter who will never remember her mother. You have a daughter, Lily. She’s three and a half now. She’s Marcus’s whole face changed when he said her name. Softened, lit up.

She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. Pain in the butt sometimes, but the best thing. Is she why Tina set us up? Because she thought we could bond over trauma. Marcus laughed. A real laugh, warm and unexpected. No. Tina set us up because she thinks I work too much and never go out. And she thinks you work too much and never go out, and she figured we could be hermits together. That sounds like Tina.

 She’s not wrong, though, about either of us. Maya smiled. For the first time all night, it didn’t feel forced. They talked for another hour. About Marcus’s daughter and her obsession with dinosaurs. About Maya’s job and the kids she worked with. About how hard it was to date when your life didn’t fit into neat little boxes when you had a kid or a disability or a schedule that didn’t match what everyone else expected.

My last boyfriend told me I was too much. Maya said she didn’t know why she was telling him this. She never talked about Derek, but something about Marcus made her feel like she could say the things she usually kept locked away. He said he couldn’t see a future with someone who couldn’t do all the normal things.

 Hiking, dancing at our wedding, running around a backyard with our kids. Marcus’s jaw tightened. He sounds like an idiot. He wasn’t. That’s the thing. He was actually a decent guy. He just couldn’t handle it. And I don’t blame him. This, she gestured at her wheelchair is a lot. It changes everything. Where we can go, what we can do, how we have to plan every single outing around accessibility.

 It’s exhausting. And not everyone’s built to deal with that long term. Maya, what? Can I tell you something else? Okay. Marcus leaned forward again, his eyes locked on hers. I’ve got a permanent limp from the accident. Some days my leg hurts so bad I can barely walk. I’ve got a 3-year-old who wakes up screaming from nightmares about monsters under her bed.

 I work 60our weeks and still barely make ends meet some months. My life is not easy. It’s not normal. and I stopped looking for someone who wanted normal a long time ago. Maya didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything. What I want, Marcus continued, is someone who gets it. Someone who knows what it’s like to have a life that doesn’t fit the plan you made when you were 20.

 Someone who shows up even when it’s hard. And from what I’ve seen tonight, Maya Chen, you show up. I was almost an hour late. You still came. That counts. They closed down the restaurant. The waitress had to come by three times to drop hints that they were trying to clean up before Maya and Marcus finally noticed it was almost 11:00 and they were the only customers left.

 “I should go,” Mia said, not wanting to. “I’ve got a session with Tyler at 10:00 tomorrow. I should probably get some sleep.” “Yeah, I’ve got to get home to Lily. My mom’s watching her, but she’ll be asleep by now. And I like to be there when she wakes up in the morning. They made their way toward the exit.

 Marcus walking slowly beside her wheelchair, matching her pace without making a big deal about it. The door was easier going out than coming in. In the parking lot, Maya stopped next to her van. Marcus stood beside her hands in his pockets, looking like he had something to say, but wasn’t sure how to say it.

 I had a really good time. Maya said. Thank you for waiting and for everything you said. I had a great time, too. Marcus hesitated. Can I see you again? Maybe this weekend I could bring Lily if that’s okay. She’d love the park. You want me to meet your daughter after one date? Is that moving too fast? Maya thought about it.

 About all the dates that had ended with awkward excuses. about all the men who’d never asked for a second chance to see her. About how Marcus had spent the past 3 hours treating her like a person instead of a problem. “No,” she said. “I’d love to meet her.” Marcus smiled, that warm, genuine smile that made her chest do something strange.

 “Saturday noon, Cheeseman Park. I’ll be there.” He leaned down and hugged her a real hug, not the awkward half embrace people usually gave her because they weren’t sure how to hug someone in a wheelchair. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her for a moment. And Maya breathed in the smell of sawdust and coffee and something warm underneath.

“Stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault,” Marcus said into her hair. “You don’t have to do that with me.” Then he was gone walking across the parking lot with that slight limp she hadn’t noticed until now. Climbing into a dusty pickup truck, waving once before he drove away.

 Maya sat in the parking lot for a long time. She wasn’t sure what had just happened. She wasn’t sure what to do with the feeling in her chest, the unfamiliar warmth, the terrifying hope. But for the first time in 2 years, she wasn’t dreading what came next. She was actually looking forward to it. Saturday came faster than Maya expected, and she’d changed her outfit four times before finally settling on jeans and a blue sweater that Tina had once told her brought out her eyes.

 She’d spent 20 minutes on her hair, which was ridiculous because it was just a trip to the park, not a formal event, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that she was about to meet Marcus’s daughter, and that felt significant in a way that made her stomach flip. She arrived at Cheeseman Park at 11:45 minutes early for the first time in her entire adult life and found a spot near the playground where she could see the parking lot entrance.

The park was busy families with kids, couples walking dogs, joggers weaving through the paths, and Maya felt suddenly acutely aware of how much space her wheelchair took up on the concrete pathway. She was repositioning herself for the third time when she heard a small voice shout, “Daddy, look. She has wheels.

” Maya turned to see Marcus walking toward her, holding the hand of a tiny girl with dark curly hair pulled into two puff balls, wearing a t-shirt with a T-Rex on it, and bright pink sneakers that lit up with every step. Lily Williams was possibly the cutest human being Maya had ever seen. Maya.

 Marcus was smiling that warm smile again. You’re early. I know. I surprised myself. Lily was staring at Maya’s wheelchair with an expression of pure fascination. No fear, no pity, no awkwardness, just the unfiltered curiosity of a three-year-old who’d never learned to be uncomfortable around things that were different. “Hi,” Lily said, still staring at the wheels. “I’m Lily.

 I’m three and a half. What’s your name?” I’m Maya. I like your shirt. Lily looked down at her T-Rex like she’d forgotten what she was wearing. This is Rex. He’s my favorite dinosaur because he has tiny arms and that’s funny. Why do you have wheels, Lily? Marcus started, but Maya held up her hand. It’s okay. I don’t mind.

 She looked at Lily. My legs don’t work the way yours do, so I use wheels to get around instead of walking. It’s like having a really cool chair that goes wherever I want. Lily processed this information with the seriousness of a tiny scientist. Can it go fast? Pretty fast. Can I have a ride? Maya looked at Marcus, who was watching the interaction with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

 Is that okay with you? If it’s okay with you, he said. Mia patted her lap. Hop on, dinosaur girl. Lily scrambled up onto Mia’s lap with the graceless enthusiasm of a toddler, and Mia wrapped one arm around her to keep her secure while using the other to push them forward. They rolled down the pathway at a moderate speed, and Lily shrieked with delight. Faster, go faster.

Maya pushed harder and they picked up speed and Lily threw her arms out like she was flying, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Marcus jogged alongside them, his limp more noticeable when he moved quickly, but he was laughing too. This is the best day ever, Lily announced. They spent the next 2 hours at the park.

Lily demanded multiple wheelchair rides showed Maya her dinosaur walk, which involved stomping and roaring, and talked non-stop about her best friend Emma, her grandma, who made the best cookies, and her daddy who could fix anything that was broken. One time,” Lily said, sitting on a bench next to Maya, while Marcus got them all ice cream from a nearby cart.

 The toilet was making a weird noise, and Daddy fixed it with a wrench and some tape. “He’s really smart.” “He sounds like it. Are you Daddy’s girlfriend?” Maya nearly choked on nothing. “Um, I think so. We’re still figuring that out.” Lily nodded sagely like, “This made perfect sense. My friend Emma’s mom has a boyfriend and he brings her presents.

Are you going to bring daddy presents? Maybe. What kind of presents does your daddy like? Tools and coffee. And Lily lowered her voice to a whisper. He really likes chocolate, but he says he’s not supposed to eat it because it makes him hyper. Maya laughed. I’ll remember that. Marcus returned with three ice cream cones.

Chocolate for himself, strawberry for Lily and vanilla for Maya. “What are you two whispering about?” “Nothing,” Lily said with the terrible poker face of a three-year-old. Maya, “Don’t tell him.” “Tell me what?” “I’ll never tell,” Mia said solemnly, and Lily giggled. Marcus sat down on Maya’s other side, close enough that their arms almost touched. She likes you. I like her, too.

She’s pretty amazing. She’s a handful, but yeah, she’s my whole world. They sat there eating ice cream while Lily chattered about wanting to see real dinosaurs at the museum and asking if Maya would come with them. And Mia felt something warm and dangerous blooming in her chest. Something that felt like hope.

 Something that felt like belonging. And underneath it, quiet but persistent. the voice that sounded like Derek. This won’t last. He’ll get tired of you. You’re too much work. Enjoy it while it lasts because it never lasts. Maya pushed the voice down and focused on the little girl beside her, who was now covered in strawberry ice cream and didn’t seem to care at all.

 The weeks that followed were some of the best Maya had experienced in years. She and Marcus fell into a rhythm dinner twice a week when their schedules aligned weekend outings with Lily. Late night phone calls when Maya couldn’t sleep after a hard day at the center and Marcus was still awake because Lily had a nightmare. She dreams about monsters.

Marcus told her one night his voice tired through the phone. The same dream over and over. Something’s chasing her and she can’t run fast enough. That’s hard for both of you. Yeah. I just hold her until she falls back asleep. Sometimes that takes an hour, sometimes two. But what else am I going to do? She’s scared. She needs me.

 Maya thought about Tyler about all the kids she worked with who were scared and needed someone to hold them through the dark parts. You’re a good dad, Marcus. I’m trying. Some days I feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water. Work’s been crazy. We got this big contract to restore a Victorian in Congress Park, and it’s more work than I’ve ever taken on.

 I’ve got three guys, and we’re all pulling 60-hour weeks, and I still barely make it to Lily’s daycare before they close most nights. Do you need help? I mean, not with the construction, obviously, but with Lily, I could pick her up some days if you’re running late. There was a long pause. You do that? Of course. I love that kid.

Maya, that’s You don’t have to. I want to. Let me help. So Maya started picking up Lily from daycare on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the days when Marcus’ job site was farthest from the center of town. She’d roll into Little Star’s learning center, and Lily would come running across the room screaming, “Maya!” like they hadn’t seen each other in years instead of two days.

 The daycare workers gave Maya curious looks. At first, this woman in a wheelchair picking up someone else’s kid, but Lily’s obvious joy at seeing her seemed to settle any concerns. We’re going to Maya’s house. Lily would announce proudly to anyone who would listen. She has paint and we make pictures.

 She’s my daddy’s girlfriend and she has wheels. Maya would take Lily back to her apartment, set her up at the kitchen table with paper and markers, and let her create while Mia worked on her own projects or prepped for the next day’s sessions at the center. When Marcus finished work, he’d come pick Lily up, usually staying for an hour or two for dinner.

 And those evenings became Maya’s favorite part of the week. “You’re good with her,” Marcus said. One night while Lily was watching a dinosaur documentary in the living room, theoretically falling asleep, but mostly just getting a second wind. Better than anyone she’s ever been around. Even my mom says so, and my mom doesn’t compliment easily.

She’s easy to love. So are you. Maya’s heart stuttered. They hadn’t said that word yet, love. They’d been dancing around it for 2 months, getting closer and closer without actually landing on it. Marcus, I know, too fast. I’m sorry. I just He ran a hand over his face. I wasn’t expecting you. I wasn’t expecting any of this.

 And I don’t want to scare you off, but I also don’t want to pretend I’m not feeling what I’m feeling. What are you feeling? Like maybe I found something I didn’t know I was looking for. Maya didn’t know what to say, so she kissed him instead, leaning across her wheelchair to press her lips to his. And he kissed her back with a tenderness that made her eyes sting.

 “Ow!” Lily’s voice came from the doorway. “You’re kissing.” They broke apart, both laughing, and Lily made dramatic gagging sounds while demanding to know why grown-ups were so gross. It was perfect. It was terrifying. Maya couldn’t shake the feeling that she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. By month three, Maya had stopped counting the number of times she’d apologized and Marcus had told her to stop.

 She apologized when she was late often. She apologized when she was tired more often. She apologized when her wheelchair scraped his door frame when she couldn’t make it up the three steps to his mom’s house without help. when she had to cancel plans because the accessible parking at a restaurant was taken and she couldn’t get out of her van.

 I’m sorry, she’d say every single time. And Marcus would respond with some version of stop apologizing or it’s not your fault or Maya, I’m not mad. But the apologies kept coming automatic as breathing because Maya had spent 17 years being told by the world by her ex, by strangers who stared by buildings that didn’t have ramps, that her existence was an inconvenience, that she took up too much space, needed too much accommodation, required too much patience.

And even though Marcus never once made her feel that way, she couldn’t stop waiting for the moment when he would. The moment came, or at least Maya thought it did, on a Tuesday afternoon in June. She was at the community center finishing up a session with Tyler, who had come so far in the past 3 months that it made her heart ache with pride.

He was painting landscapes now, bright colors, open skies, a figure with one leg standing on a hillside smiling. “That’s me,” Tyler said, pointing at the figure. in the future when I’m a grown-up. What are you doing in the future? Being an artist like you? Maya had to blink back tears. That’s a great goal, Tyler.

 I think you’re going to make it. Her phone buzzed. A text from her boss, Carol. Can you come to my office before you leave today? Need to discuss something. Maya’s stomach tightened. Need to discuss something was never good. need to discuss something was boss speak for there’s a problem or you’re in trouble or something’s about to change.

She finished up with Tyler said goodbye to the other staff and wheeled herself to Carol’s office with her heart pounding against her ribs. Maya, come in. Carol was smiling, which eased some of the tension in Mia’s chest. Close the door. Maya positioned herself in front of Carol’s desk and waited. I’ll get straight to the point.

 Carol said, “The board has been reviewing our programs and they’re incredibly impressed with what you’ve done with the art therapy initiative. The progress you’ve made with kids like Tyler, it’s exactly what we’ve been trying to achieve for years.” “Thank you. That means a lot. Which is why I want to offer you the position of program director.” Maya blinked.

 I’m sorry. what director of the entire art therapy program. You’d be overseeing all the therapists, developing curriculum, managing budgets, attending conferences. It’s a significant step up. More responsibility, more visibility, better pay. Carol paused. It’s also more hours, more travel, more demands on your time.

I want to be upfront about that. Maya’s mind was racing. This was everything she’d worked for. The recognition, the opportunity, the chance to help more kids like Tyler on a bigger scale. But more hours meant less time with Marcus and Lily. More travel meant canceled plans, missed dinners, empty evenings, more demands meant more exhaustion, more apologies, more chances for Marcus to realize that she really was too much work.

 Can I think about it? Maya heard herself say. Of course. Take a week. Talk to your family, your partner, whoever you need to talk to. Just let me know by next Tuesday. Maya left Carol’s office feeling like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at two different versions of her future, and she had no idea which one would make her fall.

That night, she was supposed to have dinner with Marcus at his place. Lily was at Marcus’s mom’s house for a sleepover, which meant they had a rare evening alone. something they hadn’t had in weeks. Maya almost cancelled. She typed out the text three different ways. Something came up. Not feeling well. Can we reschedule? But she kept hearing Marcus’s voice in her head. You show up, that counts.

 So, she showed up. Marcus greeted her at the door with a kiss and the smell of garlic bread. Hey, you okay? You look stressed. Long day. Come in. I made pasta. Not fancy, but it’s food. They ate at his small kitchen table. And Maya tried to be present. Tried to enjoy the meal and the company and the rare quiet, but her mind kept spinning back to Carol’s offer.

Director, more money, more impact, more hours, more chances to mess everything up. Okay. What’s going on? Marcus sat down his fork. You’ve barely said 10 words since you got here. I’m sorry. I’m just tired. Maya, talk to me. She pushed her pasta around her plate, buying time, building courage. My boss offered me a promotion today.

 Marcus’s face lit up. That’s amazing. What is it? Program director. It’s a big deal. It’s what I’ve been working toward for years. So, why do you look like someone just told you bad news? Maya took a breath. Because it means more hours, more travel, more responsibilities, more of me being unavailable and exhausted and cancelling plans.

She forced herself to meet his eyes. More of everything that makes me difficult to be with. Marcus was quiet for a moment. Then he said carefully, “And you think that’s going to be a problem? I think it might be for who? For me, for us, for this. She gestured between them. For whatever we’re building here.

 You and Lily deserve someone who can actually show up consistently. Someone who can be at soccer games and birthday parties and Sunday dinners. Someone who’s not constantly apologizing for being too busy or too tired or too Maya. Stop. I’m serious. Marcus, this promotion is going to make everything harder. And I know you’ve been patient.

 I know you’ve been amazing, but there’s going to come a point when you realize that being with me is just too much, and I’d rather Maya. His voice was firm now. Stop. She stopped. Marcus pushed back from the table and moved to kneel next to her wheelchair, putting himself at her eye level, the way he always did when something was important.

 His hands found hers and held them tight. “I need you to listen to me,” he said. “Really listen? Not that thing you do where you’re already planning your next apology while I’m talking.” Maya almost smiled despite herself. “Okay, this promotion sounds incredible. It sounds like exactly the kind of recognition you deserve for the work you’ve been doing.

 And yeah, it’s going to be more hours and more stress and more complicated scheduling. But you know what else it’s going to be? What? It’s going to be you doing what you love at a higher level. It’s going to be you helping more kids like Tyler. It’s going to be you being exactly who you are, ambitious and dedicated and passionate and all the things that made me fall for you in the first place.

 Maya’s throat tightened. But I’m not done. Marcus squeezed her hands. I didn’t fall in love with some imaginary version of you who works 9 to5 and has every weekend free. I fell in love with the woman who shows up in scrubs after 12-hour shifts. The woman who spends her days helping traumatized kids learn to paint again.

 The woman who picks up my daughter from daycare and teaches her about dinosaurs and doesn’t care that it makes her own schedule even crazier. You said love, Maya whispered. I know. I meant it. He reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek that she hadn’t realized was falling. I love you, Maya. Not a smaller version of you.

 Not a less ambitious version of you. You. And if this job is what you want, I want you to take it. We’ll figure out the logistics. What if it’s too hard? What if you get tired of it? What if I don’t? Marcus countered. What if I surprise you? What if I turn out to be the guy who actually sticks around when things get complicated? Maya didn’t have an answer for that.

 She’d never had someone offer to stick around before. She’d never had someone tell her that her ambition was something to celebrate instead of something to apologize for. I’m scared, she admitted. I’ve been through this before. I’ve had someone tell me they could handle it and then slowly start to resent me, and I can’t. Her voice cracked.

 I can’t watch that happen with you. It would break me. Then don’t watch it happen. Trust me instead. Marcus stood up and pulled her into an awkward but genuine hug, bending down to wrap his arms around her shoulders. I know someone hurt you. I know you’ve been carrying that for years, but I’m not him. I’m not going to wake up one day and decide you’re too much trouble.

You’re not trouble, Maya. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me since Lily was born. Maya cried then, cried. Really? Cried the kind of crying she’d been holding back for months, maybe years. And Marcus held her through all of it, not saying anything, just being there, solid and warm and present. When she finally pulled herself together, she looked up at him with mascara smeared eyes and said, “I probably look terrible.

 You look like someone who just let go of something heavy. I feel like it. Good. He kissed her forehead. So, are you going to take the job? Maya thought about it. Thought about Tyler and the other kids at the center. Thought about the chance to help more of them reach more families build something bigger than what she could do alone.

 Thought about how scary it was to want something this much and how terrifying it was to believe she might actually be able to have it. I’m going to take the job, she said. Marcus smiled. Then, “Congratulations, Director Chen.” And for the first time in as long as she could remember, Maya didn’t apologize. She didn’t apologize when she stayed late to celebrate with Marcus and ended up falling asleep on his couch.

She didn’t apologize when she woke up at 2:00 a.m. to his blanket draped over her and a note that said, “Didn’t want to wake you. Breakfast whenever you’re ready.” She didn’t apologize when she texted Carol the next morning to accept the position. she just said yes and that she was beginning to understand was allowed.

The first month as program director was everything Maya had hoped for and everything she’d feared all tangled together in a knot she couldn’t quite untangle. She was making a difference. Real tangible measurable difference. She’d hired two new therapists, expanded the program to serve three additional schools, and secured a grant that would fund a summer intensive for kids with trauma histories.

 Tyler had graduated from the program and started fourth grade with a confidence Maya could barely recognize in the shy, angry boy she’d met 6 months ago, but the hours were brutal. 60-hour weeks became 70our weeks. Maya was in meetings from 8:00 in the morning until 6:00 at night, then working from home until midnight, reviewing budgets and writing reports.

She canled dinner with Marcus three times in 2 weeks. She missed Lily’s first day of preschool because she was stuck in a conference call that ran 2 hours over. She fell asleep at her desk so often that Carol started leaving blankets in Maya’s office. You need to slow down, Marcus said one night on the phone. It was 11 p.m.

 and Maya was still at the center surrounded by paperwork. This pace isn’t sustainable. I know. I just need to get through this initial phase once things settle down. You’ve been saying that for a month. Maya rubbed her eyes. I know. I’m sorry. Stop apologizing. Right. Sorry. I mean, she laughed tiredly. Old habits. Lily asked about you today.

She wanted to know when you’re coming over to paint dinosaurs again. Maya’s chest achd. Tell her this weekend. I promise. Saturday afternoon. I’m all hers. I’ll tell her. Just don’t make a promise you can’t keep. Okay. She’s three. She doesn’t understand scheduling conflicts. She just knows you said you’d come and then you didn’t.

There was something in his voice, not anger, but something close to it. Frustration, maybe weariness. I’ll be there, Maya said. I promise. Saturday came and Mia woke up at 6:00 a.m. to an email from the board president requesting an emergency budget revision for a Monday meeting. She spent 4 hours reworking numbers and projections, told herself she’d leave by noon, and then got pulled into a crisis call when one of her therapists reported a child abuse situation that required immediate documentation. By the time she

looked at her phone, it was 3:47 p.m. She had 14 missed calls from Marcus. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she called him back. He answered on the first ring, “Where are you?” His voice was tight controlled. I’m at work. Marcus, I’m so sorry. There was an emergency and I lost track of time. Lily’s been sitting by the window for 3 hours.

 She put on her painting shirt at noon because you said you were coming. She won’t eat lunch because she wants to wait for you. Maya closed her eyes. I’m leaving right now. I’ll be there in 20 minutes. Don’t bother. The words hit her like a physical blow. What? She’s finally eating a sandwich and watching a movie. If you show up now, you’ll just upset her all over again. Stay at work.

 Finish whatever’s so important. Marcus, please. I’m not mad at you, Maya. I’m tired. There’s a difference. He paused and she could hear the exhaustion in his breathing. We’ll talk later. I need to go take care of my daughter. He hung up. Maya sat in her empty office staring at her phone and felt the weight of every choice she’d made in the past month pressing down on her chest.

 She’d done it again. She’d chosen work over the people who mattered. She’d made a promise and broken it. She’d proven every terrible thing she’d ever believed about herself. She was too much, too busy, too unreliable, too wrapped up in her own ambitions to make room for anyone else. Dererick’s voice echoed in her head.

 You’ll always be alone because nobody wants to date someone who’s never available. Maybe he’d been right all along. Maya didn’t go to Marcus’ house that night. She didn’t know what to say, how to fix it, whether there was anything left to fix. She drove home, sat in her apartment in the dark, and tried to figure out when exactly she’d become the person she’d always been afraid of becoming.

She texted Marcus at midnight. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to make this right. He didn’t respond. Sunday passed in silence. Maya worked because she didn’t know what else to do, checking her phone every 5 minutes for a text that never came. She thought about driving to Marcus’ house, showing up unannounced, begging him to listen.

 But what would she say? That she’d do better? She’d said that before? that work wouldn’t come first anymore. That was a lie, and they both knew it. Monday morning, she got a text from Tina. What happened with Marcus? He won’t talk to me about it, but he looks like hell. Maya typed back, “I messed up. Bad.” Tina’s response was immediate.

“Fix it. I don’t know how. Figure it out. That man loves you. Don’t throw that away because you’re scared.” Maya stared at those words for a long time, scared. Was that what this was? Was she sabotaging her own relationship because some part of her was still waiting for Marcus to prove her right to confirm that she was unlovable, that her career would always be more important than any person, that she didn’t deserve the happiness she’d found? Or was she just genuinely terrible at balancing her life? Maybe both. Maybe it didn’t matter

which one was true. The result was the same. A little girl who’d waited by the window for hours and a man who’d finally stopped pretending everything was fine. Tuesday night, Marcus called. Maya answered with her heart in her throat. Hi. Hey. His voice was neutral, unreadable. Can we talk in person? Yes, of course.

When? Tonight. My mom’s got Lily. Can you come over around 8? I’ll be there. She left work at 6:30, the earliest she’d left in weeks. She changed into clothes that weren’t work clothes, spent 10 minutes trying to figure out what to do with her hair, and then gave up because none of it mattered. What mattered was the conversation she was about to have.

 What mattered was whether she still had a relationship to save. Marcus opened the door and stepped aside to let her in. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, tension in his shoulders, the kind of exhaustion that came from carrying too much for too long. “Thanks for coming,” he said. “Of course.” Maya wheeled into the living room, stopped in the middle of the floor, and turned to face him.

 Marcus, I let me go first. He sat down on the couch across from her. “Please,” Maya nodded. I’ve been thinking a lot over the past few days,” Marcus said slowly. “About us, about what I want, about what’s fair to Lily.” He paused. “And I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?” “Yes.

” “Do you actually want this a relationship, a family? because I know you love your work and I would never ask you to give that up. But I need to know if there’s room in your life for me and Lily or if we’re always going to be the thing you fit in around the edges when you have time. Maya felt the question land in her chest like a stone.

 That’s not I don’t see you that way. Then why does it feel like that? Marcus leaned forward. Why does it feel like every time we make plans, I’m holding my breath, waiting to see if something more important will come up? Why am I always the one explaining to my daughter that Maya’s busy? Maya has to work. Maya couldn’t make it today.

 I know I’ve been terrible at balance. It’s not about balance, Maya. It’s about priorities. And I’m not saying your work shouldn’t be a priority. It should be. What you do matters, but Lily and I should matter, too. Not more, just equally. And right now, it doesn’t feel equal. Maya’s throat was tight. You’re right. You’re completely right.

 And I don’t have a good excuse. I just I got scared. Scared of what? Of this. She gestured at him at the room at everything. Of how much I love you and Lily. of how much it would hurt if I lost you. I think some part of me has been waiting for you to leave ever since this started. And when things got hard with work, I just leaned into the thing I knew wouldn’t leave me.

 My job, my career, those things don’t walk away when I disappoint them. So, you pushed us away before we could push you away. Yes. Her voice cracked. And I know how stupid that sounds. I know I’m the one who did the damage, but Derek, my ex, he told me I’d always be alone because of my job.

 He said no one would ever choose me over the inconvenience of being with me. And I believed him. I still believe him somewhere deep down, even after everything you’ve done to prove him wrong. Marcus was quiet for a long moment. Then he stood up, walked across the room, and knelt in front of her wheelchair, the way he always did when something mattered.

Maya, look at me. She looked. I’m not Derek. I’m not going to leave because you have a demanding job or because you’re in a wheelchair or because your life doesn’t fit some perfect picture of what a relationship is supposed to look like. My life doesn’t fit that picture either.

 I’m a widowed single dad with a three-year-old and a limp and a construction business that eats up 60 hours a week. We’re both a mess. That’s not the problem. Then what is the problem is you keep trying to end this before I have a chance to prove I’m staying. You make decisions for both of us without asking me what I actually want.

 You assume you know how I’m going to react and then you act on those assumptions instead of talking to me. He took her hands. I can handle you being busy. I can handle you cancelling plans sometimes. What I can’t handle is feeling like you’ve got one foot out the door, always ready to run because you’re convinced I’m going to hurt you eventually.

Maya was crying now. She hadn’t even realized when the tears started. I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to trust that this is real. You learn day by day. You make a choice every single day to believe that I mean what I say. And when you mess up because you will because we both will. You don’t run.

 You come back. You apologize. You try again. That sounds terrifying. It is. Marcus smiled slightly. But it’s also the only way this works. I’m not asking you to be perfect, Maya. I’m asking you to be present, to be here even when it’s hard. To let me in instead of shutting me out. I want to.

 I want that more than anything. Then stop trying to protect yourself from a heartbreak that hasn’t happened yet. Stop living in fear of what Dererick said. Be here with me, with Lily, and let’s figure the rest out together. Maya took a shaky breath. I don’t deserve you. That’s and you know it. Marcus squeezed her hands. You deserve someone who loves you exactly as you are.

 busy schedule, wheelchair, workaholic tendencies, all of it. And I’m telling you right now, I’m that person if you’ll let me be. I’m so sorry about Saturday, about Lily. I’ll make it up to her. I promise. I know you will. She’s already forgiven you. Kids are resilient like that. He paused. I’ve forgiven you, too, by the way.

 I just needed you to understand why I was upset. I do. I really do. Good. Marcus stood up and held out his hand. Now come here. Maya took his hand and let him pull her as close as her wheelchair would allow. He bent down and wrapped his arms around her. And she buried her face in his chest and breathed him in sawdust and soap and something warm underneath.

 I love you, she said into his shirt. I know I’m terrible at showing it, but I love you so much it scares me. I love you, too. He kissed the top of her head. Now, let’s order pizza and watch something stupid on TV. You look like you haven’t slept in a week. I haven’t. Then, we’re definitely watching something stupid.

 No thinking allowed. They spent the rest of the night on his couch. Maya’s wheelchair parked beside her as she leaned against Marcus’s shoulder, barely watching the action movie he’d put on. She fell asleep somewhere around the second explosion. And when she woke up at 2:00 a.m. with a blanket over her and Marcus snoring softly beside her, she felt something she hadn’t felt in months. Safe.

 Like maybe, just maybe, she’d finally found someone who wasn’t going to leave. The next few weeks were different. Maya made changes. She delegated more at work, trusted her team to handle things she’d been micromanaging, and set boundaries she’d never set before. She left by 6:00 p.m. at least 3 days a week. She kept her phone on silent during dinner.

 She showed up on Saturdays. It wasn’t perfect. She still worked too much. Still got pulled into emergencies that derailed plans. Still apologized more than Marcus wanted her to. But she was trying, really trying, and that made all the difference. Lily noticed. You’re here a lot now. Lily announced one afternoon standing beside Mia’s wheelchair with a marker in each hand.

 I like it. Are you going to live with us? Maya laughed. I don’t know, Bug. That’s something your daddy and I would have to talk about. You should. Then we could paint everyday and you could sleep in daddy’s room instead of on the couch. Lily. Maya felt her face flush. What? Emma’s mom’s boyfriend sleeps in her mom’s room. Emma told me.

 She said that’s what people do when they’re in love. Your friend Emma knows too much. She’s very smart. Lily nodded solemnly. So, are you going to marry my daddy? Maya didn’t know what to say. The question was so innocent, so direct, so completely lacking in the complexity that made adult relationships so hard. For Lily, it was simple. Maya was here.

Maya loved her daddy, so of course they should get married. I don’t know, Maya said honestly. But I love your daddy very much, and I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. Lily considered this. Okay. Can we paint dinosaurs now? Yes, bug. We can paint dinosaurs. That night after Lily was in bed, Maya told Marcus about the conversation.

 She asked if I was going to marry you. Maya said, still processing the surreal experience of being questioned about marriage by a three-year-old. Marcus’s eyebrows went up. What did you say? That I didn’t know. That I love you. that I’m not going anywhere. Those are all good answers. He was quiet for a moment.

 Do you think about it? Marriage? Maya’s heart started beating faster. Sometimes do you? Sometimes. Marcus took her hand. Not right now. Not because I don’t want it. I do. But we’ve been through a lot in the past few months. I want us to be solid before we add more complexity. That’s smart. I’m occasionally smart.

 He grinned. Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation. Your secret’s safe with me. They sat in comfortable silence for a while. And Maya found herself thinking about the future in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to think before. A future with Marcus and Lily. A future where she didn’t have to choose between love and ambition.

 A future where she belonged somewhere with someone despite everything she’d always believed about herself. I want that,” she said quietly. “Marriage, a family, all of it with you.” “I know.” Marcus squeezed her hand. “When we’re ready. We’ve got time. Do we, Maya?” He turned to face her. We’ve got all the time in the world.

 There’s no rush, no deadline, just us figuring it out day by day. Okay. Okay. And for once, Maya believed it. But believing in the future was one thing. Trusting it was another. And the test of that trust was coming sooner than either of them expected. The call came on a Thursday afternoon in October, 3 days before Maya and Marcus were supposed to celebrate their 6-month anniversary.

 Maya was in a meeting with her team when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and saw Marcus’s mom’s name, Linda, which was strange because Linda never called Maya directly. They texted occasionally, mostly about Lily, but phone calls weren’t their thing. Excuse me for a second, Maya said, wheeling back from the conference table.

 I need to take this, she answered in the hallway. Linda, is everything okay? Maya. Linda’s voice was shaky, which immediately made Mia’s stomach drop. There’s been an accident. Marcus is at Denver Health. They won’t tell me much because I’m not his emergency contact, but they said it’s serious. The world tilted sideways.

 What happened? He was at a job site. Something fell. I don’t know what exactly. They called me because Lily’s emergency contact is the daycare. And they called me. And Linda’s voice broke. I have Lily. She’s fine. But Marcus Maya, I don’t know how bad it is. I’m on my way. Maya hung up and her hands were shaking so badly she could barely grip her wheels.

 She went back into the conference room long enough to say, “Family emergency. I have to go.” And then she was racing through the building into the parking lot into her van, driving toward Denver Health with her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her teeth. the whole drive. She kept thinking, “This is it.

 This is the moment everything falls apart. This is the universe reminding you that you don’t get to keep good things.” She found parking, got herself into her wheelchair, and pushed through the emergency room doors so fast she nearly collided with a nurse. “Marcus Williams,” she said breathless. “He was brought in from a construction accident.

I need to see him.” Are you family? I’m his girlfriend. The word felt inadequate, too small for what Marcus was to her. Please, I need to know if he’s okay. The nurse’s face was carefully neutral. Let me check. Wait here. Maya waited. Every second felt like an hour. She watched doctors and nurses move through the ER efficient and focused.

 And she thought about all the times she’d been on the other side of this. The one providing care. The one with answers. Being on this side was unbearable. Ma’am. Maya looked up. A different nurse was standing in front of her. You’re here for Marcus Williams. Yes. He’s in surgery right now. There was significant trauma to his leg, the one with the previous injury.

 The doctor will come talk to you when they know more. Are you able to wait in the surgical family area? Surgery? Maya’s voice came out strange, distant. How bad is it? The nurse hesitated. I can’t give you specifics until the doctor assesses the full extent. But he was conscious when he came in, and that’s a good sign.

 He asked for someone named Maya before they took him back. He asked for her. Maya pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from crying. Thank you. Yes, I’ll wait. Just please tell him I’m here. If he wakes up, tell him I’m here. I will. The surgical waiting area was cold and quiet and filled with other people who looked exactly how Maya felt, terrified, helpless, desperate for news.

She found a spot near the corner where her wheelchair wouldn’t block the walkway and pulled out her phone. She called Linda first. I’m at the hospital. He’s in surgery. His leg. They said there was significant trauma. I don’t know more than that yet. Linda was crying. I knew that job was too big. I told him he was pushing too hard.

 He’s been working so many hours. Linda, he’s going to be okay. He has to be. Should I bring Lily? Should she be there? Maya thought about the little girl who’d already lost her mother, who had nightmares about monsters she couldn’t outrun, who didn’t know yet that her daddy was in a hospital bed. “Not yet,” Maya said. “Let me find out more first.

I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” She hung up and stared at the wall and tried to pray even though she hadn’t prayed since she was 17 years old, sitting in a hospital bed of her own, learning that she would never walk again. Please, she thought. Please don’t take him. I just found him. Please. The doctor came out 2 hours later.

 Maya saw the scrubs, the tired eyes, the careful expression, and her entire body went cold. family of Marcus Williams. I’m his girlfriend.” She wheeled forward. His mother has his daughter. I’m his I’m the closest thing to family here right now. The doctor nodded. I’m Dr. Patel. I performed the surgery on Mr.

 Williams’s leg. Is he okay? He’s stable. The injury was severe. A steel beam fell and crushed his lower leg at the job site. We had to perform extensive repair work on the bone and soft tissue. He’s going to need significant rehabilitation. Maya exhaled. Stable. He was stable, but he’s going to be okay. He’s going to recover.

Doctor Patel’s expression shifted slightly. Physically, yes, he should make a full recovery with proper therapy. But I need to be honest with you, the damage to his leg was substantial. He already had scar tissue from a previous injury which complicated matters. His mobility is going to be significantly affected at least in the short term, possibly long-term depending on how his body heals.

 What does that mean significantly affected? It means he may need assistance walking for several months, possibly a cane permanently. We won’t know the full extent until he’s further along in recovery. Maya felt the words land somewhere deep in her chest. Marcus, who was always moving, always building, always on his feet.

 Marcus might need a cane. Marcus might not walk normally again. Can I see him? He’s in recovery, still groggy from anesthesia. But yes, you can see him. Follow me. Marcus looked smaller in the hospital bed, paler. His leg was immobilized in a complicated brace, and there were tubes and wires connecting him to machines that beeped steadily in the quiet room.

Maya wheeled up beside the bed and took his hand. “Hey,” she said softly, “I’m here.” Marcus’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then slowly sharpening as they found her face. “Maya!” His voice was rough drugged. You came? Of course I came. How are you feeling? Like a building fell on me. He tried to smile. Oh, wait. One did.

 That’s not funny. It’s a little funny. He squeezed her hand weakly. Lily? Is Lily? She’s with your mom. She’s fine. She doesn’t know yet. I wanted to wait until I could tell her you were okay. I’m okay. The doctor said you’re stable. Your leg is pretty messed up, but you’re going to recover. Marcus was quiet for a moment.

How messed up? Maya hesitated. You should probably talk to the doctor about specifics. Maya, tell me. She took a breath. They said you might need a cane. That your mobility is going to be affected at least for a while. Maybe permanently. They don’t know yet. Marcus stared at the ceiling. She watched his jaw tighten, watched him processing information that would change everything about his life, his work, his independence, his ability to keep up with his three-year-old daughter.

“Okay,” he finally said. “Okay, what else am I supposed to say?” He turned his head to look at her. “I’m alive. Lily still has her dad. Everything else we figure out.” Maya felt tears burning in her eyes. You’re not upset. I’m devastated. His voice was flat honest. I’m terrified.

 I don’t know how I’m going to work, how I’m going to take care of Lily, how I’m going to do anything if I can’t walk right. But being upset about it right now isn’t going to change anything. So, I’m choosing to focus on the part where I’m alive and you’re here and my daughter is safe. That’s very mature of you. I’m high on painkillers.

 Ask me again tomorrow when they wear off. Maya laughed despite everything a wet broken sound. I love you. I love you, too. Marcus’s eyes were already drifting closed. Stay. I’m not going anywhere. She stayed all night. Slept in her wheelchair beside his bed, waking every time a nurse came in to check vitals or adjust medication. At 6:00 a.m.

, Marcus woke up more coherent and in significantly more pain, and Maya watched him try to hide how scared he was as the reality of his situation sank in. “I can’t work,” he said, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve got three guys who depend on me for their paychecks. I’ve got contracts I can’t fulfill. I’ve got,” his voice cracked. “Maya, I’ve got nothing saved.

Everything goes to Lily’s daycare and the mortgage and keeping the business running. If I can’t work for months, we’ll figure it out. How? How do we figure out no income and medical bills? And Marcus, stop. Maya rolled closer and took his hand. You’re not alone. You have your mom. You have Tina. You have me. We will figure this out together.

You shouldn’t have to. Don’t finish that sentence. Her voice was firm. You don’t get to decide what I should or shouldn’t have to do. I love you. I love Lily. And I’m going to be here whether you think you deserve it or not. Marcus was quiet, then softly. I’m scared. I know. Me, too.

 What if I can’t? What if I’m not the same person after this? What if I can’t be the dad Lily needs or the partner you deserve? Maya leaned forward until her face was close to his. Marcus Williams, you are the best man I’ve ever known. You are patient and kind, and you show up even when it’s hard. A limp isn’t going to change that.

 A cane isn’t going to change that. Whatever happens with your leg, you’re still you. And I fell in love with you, not your ability to walk without assistance. Marcus’ eyes filled with tears the first time she’d ever seen him cry. “I don’t know how to need help,” he whispered. I’ve been doing everything alone for so long.

 I know, but you’re not alone anymore. Maya wiped a tear from his cheek. Let me help. Let your mom help. Let Tina help. It’s not weakness to need people. It’s human. When did you get so wise? I had a good teacher. Some guy who kept telling me to stop apologizing for existing. She smiled. Maybe it’s time you took your own advice. The next few weeks were hard.

 Marcus came home from the hospital with a leg brace, a prescription for physical therapy, and a level of frustration Maya had never seen in him. He couldn’t climb stairs, couldn’t drive, couldn’t carry Lily when she ran to him, demanding up, daddy up. He struggled with crutches, hated the wheelchair the hospital provided even more, and snapped at everyone who tried to help him.

 I can do it myself, he said for the hundth time when Maya offered to help him from the couch to the bathroom. I know you can, but you don’t have to, Maya. If you hover over me one more time, I’m going to lose my mind. She backed off, gave him space, watched him struggle and fall and curse and try again because she understood better than anyone what it felt like to lose the body you used to have.

 But she also understood something Marcus was still learning that accepting help wasn’t giving up. It was surviving. Lily handled the situation better than any of them expected. She accepted Daddy’s leg has a big owie with the matter-of-act resilience of young children and she adapted without complaint to the new rules.

 No jumping on Daddy. No asking him to chase her. No climbing into his lap without asking first. It’s okay, Lily told Marcus one night when he apologized for not being able to carry her to bed. Maya can push me in her chair. It’s like having two people with wheels now. Marcus had looked at Maya across the room and something in his expression had shifted, like he was seeing something he hadn’t seen before.

Out of the mouths of babes, Ma said later when Lily was asleep. She’s right, though. Marcus was sitting on the couch, his leg elevated on pillows. I’ve been acting like needing help is the end of the world. And my three-year-old just reminded me that you’ve been living this way for 17 years. It’s different. I’ve had time to adjust.

It’s not that different. He reached for her hand. I’ve been a terrible patient. I’ve been pushing you away because I’m embarrassed and frustrated and I don’t know how to be the person who needs instead of the person who provides. And I’m sorry. You don’t have to apologize. Yeah, I do.

 I’ve been telling you for months to stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault. And then I turn around and make you feel bad for trying to help me. That’s not fair. You’re dealing with a lot. So are you. You’re working full-time helping take care of Lily, driving me to physical therapy three times a week, and dealing with my mood swings, and you haven’t complained once.” He squeezed her hand.

 “I don’t deserve you. Now you sound like me. Maybe we’re both idiots who don’t know how to accept love.” Maya laughed. “Maybe. I’m going to do better. I’m going to let you help without being a jerk about it. and I’m going to stop pretending that needing a cane or a wheelchair or whatever else makes me less of a man or less of a father. That’s a big shift.

Lily helped. Marcus smiled slightly. Apparently, having two people with wheels is very exciting for her. She’s already asked if we can race. She’d probably win. She’s ruthless. She gets it from her grandmother. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, and Maya realized something had changed between them.

 The crisis hadn’t broken them apart. It had pulled them closer. They’d seen each other at their worst and chosen to stay anyway. That was what love looked like, she realized. Not the easy parts, the hard parts, the showing up when everything was falling apart parts. 6 weeks after the accident, Marcus walked across the physical therapy room using a cane for the first time.

 It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t fast. His face was tight with concentration and his knuckles were white around the cane’s handle. But he did it one step, then another, then another, until he reached the end of the room and turned around. Maya was watching from her wheelchair near the door, tears streaming down her face. Don’t cry.

Marcus said, breathing hard. I’ll think I did something wrong. You did something right. She wiped her eyes. You did something amazing. I walked 10 ft with a stick. That’s not amazing. 6 weeks ago, you couldn’t stand up. Today, you walked across a room. That’s amazing, Marcus. Own it. He made his way back across the room slower now.

 Fatigue showing in every line of his body. When he reached her, he lowered himself into the chair next to her wheelchair and let out a long breath. “I hate this,” he admitted. “I hate being slow. I hate needing the cane. I hate that everything takes 10 times longer than it used to.” “I know.

 How did you do it when you first got hurt? How did you keep going?” Maya thought about it. About those first terrible months in the wheelchair? about learning to navigate a world that wasn’t built for her, about the anger and the grief and the slow, painful acceptance. I didn’t have a choice, she said finally.

 I could either adapt or give up. And giving up wasn’t an option because there were things I wanted to do, people I wanted to be there for. So, I adapted. One day at a time, one small victory at a time. One small victory, Marcus repeated. Today’s small victory, you walked across a room. Tomorrow’s small victory, maybe you walk a little farther or a little faster.

 Or you figure out how to pick up Lily without losing your balance. Small victories add up. Marcus looked at her for a long moment. I love you. Have I mentioned that recently? Not in the last few hours. I love you. and I don’t know what I would have done without you these past weeks. You would have survived.

 You’re stronger than you think. Maybe. He reached over and took her hand. But I’m glad I didn’t have to find out. 3 months after the accident, Marcus stood in his kitchen making pancakes for the first time since the steel beam had changed everything. He still used the cane. The doctor said he probably always would at least for longer distances or uneven terrain, but he’d made peace with that mostly, and watching Lily bounce around the kitchen in her dinosaur pajamas while he flipped pancakes with one hand and steadied himself with the

other felt like a victory he’d earned. “Daddy, can I have chocolate chips in mine?” Lily asked, tugging at his shirt. “You had chocolate chips yesterday.” “But yesterday was yesterday. Today is today. That’s some impressive logic, bug. Please, pretty please. With a T-Rex on top.

 Marcus looked at Maya, who was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, watching them with an expression that made his chest tight in the best possible way. What do you think? He asked her. Chocolate chips. I think, Maya said slowly. That it’s Saturday, and Saturday is a special day, and special days require chocolate chips.

 Lily cheered and did a little dance and Marcus shook his head but reached for the bag of chocolate chips anyway. You’re going to spoil her, he said. That’s my job. I’m the fun one. I thought I was the fun one. You’re the pancake one. Different category. They ate breakfast together at the small kitchen table. Lily chattering about her upcoming fourth birthday party and how she wanted a dinosaur cake and dinosaur decorations and maybe a real dinosaur if Mia could find one at the hospital.

 I don’t think hospitals have dinosaurs, bug, Maya said. But you work with sick people. Maybe a dinosaur got sick and you could bring it home. I’ll keep an eye out. After breakfast, Marcus did the dishes while Maya helped Lily get dressed. And he found himself standing at the sink, hands in soapy water, thinking about how different his life looked now compared to a year ago.

 A year ago, he’d been a single dad, struggling to keep his business afloat and his daughter happy and his own loneliness at bay. A year ago, he’d agreed to a blind date, mostly because Tina wouldn’t stop nagging him about it. A year ago, he’d sat alone at a restaurant for almost an hour, wondering if the woman he was supposed to meet would even show up.

 Now, he was making pancakes on a Saturday morning while the woman he loved helped his daughter pick out a dress, and his leg achd in a way it would probably always ache, and none of that mattered because he wasn’t alone anymore. Mia rolled back into the kitchen with Lily perched on her lap, both of them giggling about something.

We have a fashion emergency, Maya announced. Lily has informed me that her purple dress is actually not acceptable because it doesn’t have sparkles and apparently sparkles are mandatory for Saturdays. I didn’t know about the sparkle rule, Marcus said. It’s a new rule, Lily said. Seriously. I just made it.

 Well, if it’s a new rule, we should probably follow it. Check the closet in my room. There might be something sparkly in there from last Christmas. Lily scrambled off Mia’s lap and ran toward the bedroom, leaving Marcus and Maya alone in the kitchen. “She’s getting so big,” Maya said softly. “It feels like yesterday she was asking if she could have a ride on my wheelchair.

” “Time flies when you’re raising a tiny dictator.” “A sparkly tiny dictator.” Marcus dried his hands and walked over to where Maya was sitting, lowering himself into the chair beside her. His leg protested the movement, but he was getting better at ignoring it. “Can I talk to you about something?” he asked. Maya’s expression shifted to concern.

“Is everything okay?” “Everything’s fine. Better than fine.” He took a breath. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about us, about Lily, about what I want the future to look like. Okay. When I got hurt, I was terrified. Not just about my leg or my job or any of that. I was terrified that you’d realize how much of a mess my life was and decide it wasn’t worth the trouble.

Marcus, let me finish. He reached for her hand. You didn’t leave. You showed up every single day. You drove me to physical therapy and helped with Lily and dealt with my terrible mood swings and never once made me feel like a burden. And I know I know that you understand what that’s like because you’ve spent your whole life being made to feel like you’re too much trouble.

Maya’s eyes were shining. Where is this going? I’m getting there. Marcus smiled. You taught me something, Maya. You taught me that needing help isn’t weakness. That taking up space isn’t something to apologize for. That love isn’t about being perfect. It’s about showing up when it’s hard. You taught me those things, too.

 Then maybe we’re even. He squeezed her hand. I want to spend the rest of my life showing up for you. I want to be the person you lean on when things get hard. I want to watch Lily grow up with you by my side. I want to build something together, something bigger than either of us could build alone. Maya was crying now, tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

 Marcus, are you? I don’t have a ring yet. I wanted to ask you first to make sure this was what you wanted. But Maya Chen, I am asking you when you’re ready, when it feels right, if you would consider spending the rest of your life with a guy who walks with a cane and makes mediocre pancakes and loves you more than he knows how to say.

 “That’s not a very traditional proposal,” Maya said, laughing through her tears. “Nothing about us is traditional. I figured I’d stick with the theme. I love you. Is that a yes? Ask me again when you have a ring. I want the full experience. Marcus laughed. Fair enough. But for the record, when I do ask, what’s the answer going to be? Maya leaned forward and kissed him soft and sweet and full of promise. The answer is going to be yes.

It’s always going to be yes. Good. He kissed her back. That’s what I was hoping you’d say. Lily came running back into the kitchen wearing a sparkly pink tutu over her jeans. I found sparkles. Look, that’s beautiful, bug, Marcus said. Maya, do you like it? I love it. You look like a princess. A dinosaur princess, Lily corrected.

 Those are the best kind. Absolutely the best kind. Marcus caught Maya’s eye across the room and she smiled at him. That smile that still made his heart do something strange after all these months. And he knew with a certainty that surprised him that everything was going to be okay. Not easy, not perfect, but okay. And sometimes okay was more than enough.

The ring came 3 weeks later. Marcus had enlisted Tina’s help to find something that would work for Maya’s lifestyle, something she wouldn’t have to worry about catching on her wheelchair or taking off for work. They’d found a simple band with a small inset diamond that sparkled when it caught the light but wouldn’t get in the way.

 It’s perfect, Tina said when they picked it up. She’s going to lose her mind in a good way. In the best way. You know she’s been waiting for this, right? She tries to play it cool, but she texts me basically every day asking if I think you’re going to propose soon. Marcus laughed. Good to know I’m not the only nervous one.

 You nervous? The guy who rebuilt an entire Victorian house with three employees and a bum leg? That’s different. That’s work. This is He looked at the ring in its small velvet box. This is everything. He planned to propose on Lily’s fourth birthday at the park where they’d had their first real outing together as a family.

 It felt right the place where Lily had first climbed onto Mia’s wheelchair and demanded to go faster. where Maya had started becoming part of their lives in a way that couldn’t be undone. The party was small. Marcus’s mom, Linda, a few of Lily’s friends from preschool, Tina and her husband, and a handful of other people who’d become important to their little patchwork family.

 Lily was in her element, running around with the other kids, demanding everyone look at her dinosaur cake, bossing around, adults and children alike, with the confidence of a tiny queen. Maya watched it all from her usual spot at the edge of the activity. Close enough to be part of things but not in the way. Marcus noticed that about her, how she always positioned herself to take up the least amount of space even now, even after everything.

 Old habits died hard. “Hey,” he said, walking over to her with two plates of cake. “You okay?” “I’m great. Just watching.” She took the plate he offered. Lily is having the time of her life. She’s been talking about this party for 3 months straight. I think her expectations have been exceeded. Did she like her presents? She loved them, especially the art supplies from you.

 She’s already planning her first masterpiece. She told me it’s going to be a dinosaur eating a birthday cake. Very avantguard. Marcus sat down in the chair beside her wheelchair, his cane resting against his knee. They ate cake in comfortable silence, watching Lily lead a parade of kids around the playground. “Can I ask you something?” Marcus said. “Always.

” “Are you happy? Like really happy with all of this?” Maya turned to look at him. “Why are you asking?” “Because I need to know. Before I do what I’m about to do, I need to know that this is what you want. Not because you feel obligated or because Lily needs a mother figure or because you think you should be happy.

 Because you actually are. Maya set down her plate and reached for his hand. Marcus, I have never been happier in my entire life. I spent 17 years thinking I was too much trouble to love. I spent 17 years apologizing for existing and then you showed up and told me to stop apologizing and you meant it. You didn’t just tolerate my wheelchair.

You made space for it. You didn’t just accept my busy schedule. You celebrated my career. You made me feel like I was allowed to take up space in the world. That’s because you are allowed. I know that now because of you. She squeezed his hand. So, yes, I’m happy. Really truly completely happy.

 Is that what you needed to hear? That’s exactly what I needed to hear. Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box. Because I have something to ask you. Maya’s breath caught. I know. I said I’d wait until I had a ring, Marcus said, opening the box to reveal the simple band with its inset diamond.

 Well, I have a ring now and I don’t want to wait anymore. Marcus Maya Chen, you came into my life wearing scrubs and apologizing for being late and you’ve been turning everything upside down ever since. You taught me how to ask for help. You showed me that needing people isn’t weakness. You loved my daughter like she was your own. And you loved me even when I was difficult and scared and pushing you away.

 You weren’t that difficult. I was pretty difficult, but you stayed anyway. He took the ring out of the box. I don’t want to imagine my life without you. I don’t want Lily to grow up without you. I want to build something together. A family, a home, a future, whatever that looks like, however complicated it gets.

I want it all with you. Maya was crying again, but she was laughing too. That beautiful broken sound of joy and relief and overwhelming emotion. So, Maya Chen, will you marry me? Yes. The word came out immediately without hesitation. Yes, absolutely. Yes. Marcus slid the ring onto her finger and it fit perfectly.

 And then he was kissing her while Lily’s birthday party carried on around them and Tina started cheering from somewhere behind them. Daddy. Lily’s voice cut through the celebration. Are you kissing again? They broke apart, both laughing, and Lily came running over with frosting on her face and grass in her hair. What’s happening? Why is everyone being weird? Marcus picked up his daughter, something he could do now as long as he was sitting down and settled her on his lap.

I asked Maya to marry me, Bug. Lily’s eyes went wide. What did she say? She said yes. So Maya’s going to be my mommy. The question hung in the air. Maya looked at Marcus, then at Lily, her heart so full it hurt. If you want me to be, Mia said carefully. I know you had a mommy and I’m not trying to replace her, but I would really love to be part of your family officially.

Lily considered this with the seriousness of a 4-year-old weighing life’s biggest decisions. Then she nodded. Okay, but you have to promise to always let me ride on your wheelchair. I promise. And you have to come to all my birthday parties forever. I promise. And you have to help me make a dinosaur wedding cake. Maya laughed.

 I think we can arrange that then. Okay. Lily held out her pinky. Pinky promise. Maya hooked her pinky around Lily’s tiny one. Pinky promise. This is the best birthday ever. Lily announced. I got a new mommy and a dinosaur cake. Those are definitely the two best things. Marcus agreed. Can we have more cake now? Yes, Bug, we can have more cake.

 Lily ran off to demand more cake from her grandmother, and Marcus and Maya sat together, his arm around her shoulders, her hand resting on his knee. “That went better than I expected,” Marcus said. “She’s pretty incredible. She gets it from me and her grandmother and probably whoever her biological mother was.” Marcus was quiet for a moment.

 Rachel would have liked you. She wasn’t. She wasn’t a bad person. She just wasn’t ready to be a mom. But she would have been glad Lily found someone like you. Thank you for saying that. Thank you for being that person. They sat in silence watching Lily terrorize the cake table, watching their friends and family celebrate around them.

 So Maya said finally, “We’re doing this. We’re doing this. Getting married, becoming a family, the whole thing. The whole thing. Marcus turned to look at her. Any regrets? Maya looked at the ring on her finger, looked at Lily covered in frosting, looked at Marcus with his cane and his crooked smile, and his eyes that had seen her really seen her from the very first night.

“Not a single one,” she said. The wedding was 6 months later in the spring at the community center where Mia worked. It wasn’t a big wedding, just close friends and family. The kids from Mia’s program, Marcus’ construction crew. Lily was the flower girl, obviously, and she took her job extremely seriously.

 Scattering rose petals with the focus of a surgeon performing a delicate operation. Maya wore a simple white dress that Tina had helped her find something beautiful but practical, something that wouldn’t get caught in her wheels. Marcus wore a suit and leaned on his cane and cried when he saw her coming down the aisle.

 You’re supposed to wait until the vows to cry. Maya whispered when she reached him, “I’m an overachiever.” The ceremony was short and sweet. They’d written their own vows, and Marcus went first. Maya, when I met you, I was a single dad with a construction business and a lot of walls built up around my heart. I thought I knew what my life was going to look like.

 I thought I’d figured out how to do it all alone. And then you rolled into that restaurant 45 minutes late, apologizing for existing and completely destroyed every plan I’d ever made. People laughed. Maya wiped her eyes. You taught me that strength isn’t about not needing anyone. It’s about letting people in.

 It’s about being vulnerable enough to ask for help and brave enough to offer it. You taught me that love isn’t about finding someone perfect. It’s about finding someone perfectly willing to show up day after day, even when it’s hard. He paused and his voice was rough when he continued. I promise to show up for you everyday in scrubs or in wedding dresses, in hospitals or in kitchens, in the good times and the hard times.

 I promise to never make you feel like you’re too much because you could never be too much. You are exactly enough, and I am so grateful you chose me.” Maya took a breath. Her hands were shaking as she held the paper with her vows written on it. Marcus, I spent most of my life apologizing, for being late, for being tired, for taking up space, for needing help, for existing in a world that constantly reminded me I was an inconvenience.

And then I met you, and you told me to stop apologizing, and you meant it.” She looked up at him at this man who had seen her at her worst and chosen to stay. “You never made me feel like my wheelchair was a problem. You never made me feel like my job was too demanding. You never made me feel like loving me was a burden.

 You just loved messy schedule and all wheels and all ambition and all. And you taught me that I was allowed to love you back without apologizing for it. Her voice cracked and she paused to collect herself. I promise to love you without apology. I promise to show up even when it’s hard. I promise to be the family that Lily deserves and the partner that you deserve.

 I promise to stop shrinking myself to make other people comfortable because you showed me that the right person doesn’t want me smaller. They want me exactly as I am. She folded up the paper and looked at him. I choose you, Marcus Williams, today and every day. No apologies, no conditions, just love. The officient pronounced them married, and Marcus kissed her, while Lily cheered and threw the rest of her flower petals in the air, and everyone they loved celebrated around them.

 It wasn’t a perfect kiss. Marcus was balancing on his cane, and Maya had to crane her neck up from her wheelchair, but it was theirs. Imperfect and awkward and completely absolutely right. Later at the reception, Lily climbed onto Ma’s lap and demanded to be wheeled around the dance floor. We’re dancing, Lily announced. This is how we dance.

 This is how we dance, Maya agreed, spinning them in slow circles while Marcus watched from a nearby table his cane resting beside him. His smile so wide it made his face hurt. Tina dropped into the chair next to him. You did good, Williams. I got lucky. You both got lucky. Tina raised her glass. to the happy couple.

 May you have many years of apologizing for nothing and loving each other anyway. I’ll drink to that.” Maya and Lily spun past them both laughing, and Marcus felt something settle in his chest. Something that had been restless for years. He had a family now, a real one built not from blood or obligation, but from choice, from showing up, from loving imperfect people perfectly.

“Daddy,” Lily called out. Come dance with us. Marcus grabbed his cane and stood up. His leg achd the way it always would, but it held him. It carried him across the floor to his wife and his daughter. And when he reached them, Maya took his hand and Lily grabbed his leg and they swayed together, all three of them in their own imperfect rhythm.

 “I love you,” Maya said. “I love you, too. This is the best day ever,” Lily said. “Even better than my birthday. Even better than the dinosaur cake. Way better than the dinosaur cake. Marcus laughed and pulled them both closer, and the three of them stayed there swaying in their own little world while the music played and their loved ones celebrated around them.

 Sometimes the right person doesn’t need you polished and perfect. They love you exhausted and real in scrubs or wedding dresses, walking or rolling. They don’t ask you to be smaller. They celebrate you taking up all the space you need. And that kind of love, the kind that shows up, that stays, that sees you exactly as you are and chooses you anyway.

 That kind of love was worth every hard day and every broken promise and every moment of fear. Maya had spent her whole life apologizing for existing. And now, finally, she was done. She was here. She was loved. She was exactly where she belonged. No apologies necessary.