I expected my hubby to be there for me no matter what. But the night I walked in on him with my closest friend, my life fell apart. I rushed into the storm, blinded by tears, never seeing the steep bend ahead.

I’d always considered myself contented. I had a devoted spouse, a beloved daughter, and a close friend in whom I entirely relied. My life seemed perfect—cozy meals, laughing at the table, kisses before bed. Mark was always there for me. He could always make me laugh, even on my toughest days.

“Kate, try not to become stressed.” What is the worst thing that might happen? Does your dinner burn? We order pizza. Problem solved.”

Sophie, our six-year-old daughter, was overjoyed. She enjoyed goodnight tales, caramel ice cream, and our unexpected dance parties.

Mom, twirl me! “Higher!” she said, twisting in my arms. “Okay, but if I fall, you’re carrying me to bed,” I teased, making her laugh even more.

Mark would shake his head. “There are two troublemakers.” I don’t have a chance in this house.” We were a perfect trifecta. Or so I thought.

And then there was Sarah. Sarah was my best friend. I trusted them with everything.

When she said she would rather not celebrate her birthday, I assumed she was just in a mood. But what does it mean to have a birthday without a celebration? That felt wrong.

So I planned to surprise her. I got her favorite chocolate cherry cake, and she smiled at me.

She is going to roll her eyes and remark, “Kate, you’re ridiculous.”

I parked in front of her house, but something seemed strange. The door was ajar.

“Sarah?” I called, walking inside.

Silence. I walked a few more feet before stopping.

Mark was on her couch. His hand lay against her lower back. Their fingers entwined. His face was very near to hers. Too close. The air has fled my lungs.

“Kate…” Mark shot up, pallid.

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Wait, just…”

Their voices were blurry and garbled. My heart screamed in my ears. The cake dropped from my fingers and landed softly.

I turned and bolted. Outside, the rain slapped against my skin as I struggled with my keys. My hands trembled so much that I could hardly get them into the ignition.

“Breathe, Kate. Just breathe.”

The engine screamed into life. My chest heaved. My eyesight clouded.

I applied pressure to the gas pedal. The streetlights blurred into golden stripes.

A sharp turn sign appeared. Too late. Tires skidded. The force was both powerful and crushing.

Blackness.

I awoke in a hospital bed. My body felt strange, damaged, and unresponsive. I attempted to move, but something went wrong.

“Kate,” said the doctor, his voice calm. “You need to know…”

His words were like fire. The lower body was paralyzed. A wheelchair. The prospect of recovery exists, but there are no assurances.

I didn’t understand how this was possible. How could I not walk anymore?

Panic grabbed my throat. Then I spotted her.

Sophie stood at the entrance. Her eyes were enormous, full of dread and agony. She dashed towards me, wrapping her arms around me and burying her face in my shoulder.

“Mommy…”

I gripped her as tight as I could.

Mark stood there. His expression was distant and lifeless, devoid of any sorrow. I looked at him for the first time and felt genuine terror.

I muttered, “We’ll get through this,” because I needed to believe it. I had to.

He breathed long and heavily. “Kate…”

I invited Sophie to play with her teddy bear in the hallway. A caring nurse offered to remain with her for a few minutes.

Mark eventually proceeded. “I can’t do this anymore.”

The world came to a standstill.

“What?”

“I’m leaving.”

No apologies. No regrets. Without hesitation. Just a basic factual statement.

I squeezed the sheets so tight that my fingertips became white. “For her?”

He didn’t respond.

“I’ll take Sophie for now,” he said, his voice dry. “We’ll decide the rest later.”

Then he just turned and went away. I was left alone. Tears fell silently down my cheeks.

I needed to get back on my feet. For Sophie.

Rehabilitation was hellish. That’s when Alex came into my life.

He was my physical therapist, coming every day to teach me how to move. I felt like a youngster learning to walk for the first time. He was gentle and patient, yet he never let me give up.

“Again, Kate, you can do it.” But I could not.

I was angry. At myself. To my spouse. Alex encouraged me to focus on my legs, despite my thoughts being consumed by betrayal and my desire to wallow in self-pity.

A week of unsuccessful treatment has gone. Sophie returned.

She was not just joyful; she was beaming. She ran across the room and leaped on the bed, her long hair falling over her shoulders and her voice brimming with enthusiasm.

“Mom, you won’t believe this!” We visited the amusement park!” She dropped down in front of me, her eyes twinkling. “Dad let me ride the biggest roller coaster, and Aunt Sarah bought me the biggest cotton candy!”

Her comments hit me hard. Aunt Sarah.

I pushed myself to grin, despite the knot in my throat.

“That sounds wonderful, sweetheart.”

“Mom, can we go together next time?” She grasped my hand passionately.

I wanted to answer “yes.”

However, I had only just learned how to get into and out of my wheelchair on my own. Basic domestic duties were demanding. The idea of moving anywhere in this wheelchair felt unpleasant and unthinkable.

I wanted to promise her that I’d run beside her, laugh with her, and hold her hand when she yelled with delight on the rides. But I could not. My legs did not move. She lived in a universe where my legs did not exist.

Sophie waited. Her large eyes stared up at me with hope, and it burned hotter than any words could.

I glanced aside. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

Disappointment flared across her gaze. She softly released my hand, her shoulders dropping.

She muttered, “Oh, maybe another time.” That evening, Mark called.

“Sophie’s doing great with me,” he said calmly and confidently, as if he’d already settled everything for us. “I think she should live here.”

I grasped the phone. “You didn’t even ask me.”

“Be honest, Kate. It’s difficult for you. Sophie deserved a normal childhood.”

I nearly yelled. “And you think I can’t give that to her?”

Mark groaned, as if he were speaking to a kid who refused to grasp the obvious.

“You see for yourself. I’ll take her up tomorrow; she has a dental appointment and a birthday celebration. Do you want to take her yourself?”

I clenched my jaw. He did not wait for my response. He hung up.

Sophie departed the next morning. Alex came, and I met him with a harsh glare.

“I’m done.”

He was astonished but not rattled.

“Kate, it’s natural to feel fatigued. However, that’s not the case now. You have come so far.”

“And for what?” My voice broke, and panic crept in. “For what?” To see my daughter having the time of her life with my ex and his mistress? To realize she would prefer to be with them than with me? To keep gazing at my legs, hoping they’ll miraculously start working again?”

Alex squeezed his lips together. “Sophie adores you. But you need time.”

“She needs a mother who can walk.”

He let out a deep sigh. “She needs a mother who doesn’t give up.”

“I can’t do this anymore,” I muttered.

Alex gazed at me for a long time, his eyes filled with understanding.

“Okay.”

I frowned. “Okay?”

“If you want to give up, I can’t stop you.”

He stood up. “But if you ever need my help again, you know where to find me.”

Then he departed. I sat at the window, watching as the rain started to pour.

***

The following day, my mother came. I had not invited her. I hadn’t informed her what was going on. I believed Alex had obtained her phone number and contacted her.

She entered the room without asking permission and sat next to me.

“My sweet girl,” she said softly, taking my hand the way she had when I was a child and afraid. “Everything will be alright.”

I didn’t respond.

“The doctors say you need to believe in yourself.”

I gave a dry laugh. “I don’t believe in anything anymore, Mom.”

She sighed, patted my palm, then opened her laptop without saying anything further.

On the television, I recognized myself as a youngster. sprinting on the beach, laughing, falling into the sand, rising back up, and sprinting toward my mother, who lifted and whirled me around.

I gazed at the screen, shocked. “What is this?”

Mom grinned. “It is your childhood. This was the period when I lacked the strength to raise you. I had cancer. I was recovering from chemotherapy.”

I shuddered. “I remember that time…” But I didn’t realize you were unwell. You’ve always appeared so powerful. You recently started wearing that scarf all the time. But I never knew.”

She stared at me with warm, steady eyes.

“When your father died, I became ill. The doctors told me my odds were 50/50.

“But you recovered.”

“Because I saw your eyes,” she pressed my hand. “I didn’t want to betray your happiness.”

I never knew. She softly stroked a strand of hair away from my face.

“And Sophie…he wants to take her from me,” I whimpered.

“Honey, I will take care of Sophie. Until you get back on your feet. And it will happen shortly.” I believe it.

She winked. “And, Alex…” I suppose he believes in you, too.”

I instantly viewed my mother in a whole new light, and I knew that if she could do it, so could I. That night, I phoned him.

“I’m coming back to rehab.”

“I knew you would,” he said.

The days that followed were awful. But Sophie and my mother were there, and it gave me the strength to keep going.

I fell. Alex caught me. I attempted to move. I made repeated attempts to move.

“If you need me outside of this, I can help, Sophie. Your mother also deserves a vacation occasionally.”

When I glanced up at him, something warm and unexpected stirred inside me.

“Is this your way of asking me out?”

He chuckled. Then I took my first step. Then my second.

A month later, I hosted Sophie’s birthday party. I stood near her. Without a wheelchair.

Alex seized my hand. Mark watched from a distance. But I’ve never looked back.