The song was slow, soft, almost fragile.
Daniel moved with patience, turning my wheelchair in gentle circles beneath the lights. His hands never rushed. He never made me feel like a burden. He looked at me as if I belonged there as much as anyone else.
At first, people stared.
Then something shifted.
The whispering faded. A few students smiled. Someone stepped back to give us more space. For once, the room did not feel like it was watching my pain. It felt like it was witnessing my courage.
I laughed, surprising myself. Daniel laughed too, but there was something behind his eyes I couldn’t read.
It looked almost like sadness.
When the song ended, he crouched beside me.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he said quietly.
I asked him why.
Before he could answer, a police officer entered the gym.