Elena pulled off her own sweater and draped it over Alexander’s shoulders.
“There’s a bus stop down the hill,” she shouted over the wind. “We can shelter there.”
She pushed the wheelchair through mud and rain, slipping, falling, bleeding—but never stopping.
At the bus stop, Elena knelt before him, warming his frozen hands.
“Sir,” she said, mascara streaked, voice shaking, “I need to tell you something. I know you’re not paralyzed.”
Alexander froze.
“I’ve known for three days,” she confessed. “I saw you move. I knew you were testing her. That’s why I protected you.”
A tear slipped from Alexander’s eye.