There were risks.
There would be months of difficult recovery.
And nobody could promise a miracle.
When the doctor finished explaining, Daniel asked the question he had been afraid to ask.
“What are his chances?”
The doctor spoke honestly.
“We believe treatment could make a meaningful difference. But Noah will need patience, support, and a family willing to stand beside him through the difficult days.”
Daniel looked at his son.
“I’ll be here.”
Noah studied him.
“Even when I get angry?”
“Yes.”
“Even if the treatment doesn’t work?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Even if I don’t get better?”
Daniel moved closer to the bed.
“Listen to me, Noah. You don’t have to walk to make me proud of you. You don’t have to win anything, achieve anything, or become somebody important.”
He took his son’s hand.
“You’re already important to me. I just wish I’d understood that fourteen years ago.”
