Zade walked a pace behind Rai as they finally boarded the plane, his eyes fixed protectively on Rai's posture. Rai was using his crutches today. While he was physically adept with them, he utterly despised using them in public, he hated the subtle, probing stares from strangers trying to decipher his disability, questioning why a young man needed such heavy support.
Knowing Rai would never truly get over the loss of his independence, Zade always stood close, deliberately drawing attention or speaking softly to distract him.
In the beginning, Zade's chest had been crushed by overwhelming guilt, which eventually bled into pity. But he learned quickly to hide it; Rai loathed being pitied more than anything else.
When Rai had first regained consciousness in the foreign hospital, he didn't speak for an entire week. There was no vocal tract damage, he simply chose silence.
