Chapter 12 - ALESSIA WALKS
Alessia’s foot recovered slowly.
Not movie slowly.
Actual slowly.
Brace.
Exercises.
Electrical stimulation.
Frustration.
At three weeks, some dorsiflexion returned.
At six, better.
At ten, almost normal.
She hated when people stared at her gait.
I did it constantly.
“Stop.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re counting my steps.”
“I count things.”
“You don’t.”
Correct.
Then Dr. Cole told me privately:
“If you treat every limp like a family emergency, she’ll start hiding symptoms again.”
That sentence hit harder than it should have.
Because she already had.
I changed.
Not perfectly.
Then Alessia returned to San Vittore for the first time after the wedding.
No stairs alone.
Not because I ordered.
Because physical therapy recommended caution.
She inspected the east terrace with two accountants and an engineer.
Professional.
No bodyguards hovering.
Then she came home and said:
“The flooring was absolutely misallocated.”
I smiled.
“That make you happy?”
“No.”
“It does a little.”
May you like
She laughed.
Good.
