The morning felt unusually quiet in the mansion, peaceful in a way that made Aiden suspicious. Normally, there was always some distant noise staff moving around, the gardener trimming something outside, Mila giggling somewhere she didn't belong.
But today… nothing.
He had just finished his stretching routine with Mia and was resting in his wheelchair when the elevator dinged.
Footsteps.
Multiple.
And that all-too-familiar giggle.
Aiden exhaled sharply. "Oh no…"
Mia raised a brow. "Someone's here?"
Before he could answer, the door flew open.
Standing there with a bright, triumphant smile was Mrs. Lawrence, elegant as always, and clinging excitedly to her arm was Mila, practically bouncing as she squealed:
"Surprise, Aiden!"
Behind them stood Dr. Harris, the family doctor, holding his medical case with a polite but serious smile.
Aiden closed his eyes. "Mom…"
Mrs. Lawrence entered proudly, Mila dragging behind in exaggerated excitement.
"We came to see your progress," Mrs. Lawrence said, her voice warm but filled with pride. "Your therapist called this morning—he said you're improving faster than expected."
Aiden glared at the ceiling. Of course he did.
Mia stiffened beside him.
This was the part she feared—attention, praise, expectations, pressure.
"Mom," Aiden said, trying to sound calm, "you didn't need to rush over."
"Nonsense!" she said. "You're my son. If you're walking again soon, I deserve to know."
Mila leaned to whisper loudly, "I told Auntie we should bring Dr. Harris immediately—so he can take over now."
Mia's shoulders tensed at that.
Dr. Harris stepped forward. "Aiden, may I?"
Aiden reluctantly nodded.
The Examination Begins
Mia quietly retreated to the corner of the room—not wanting to interfere, not wanting attention, and definitely not wanting to be blamed for anything.
Dr. Harris lifted Aiden's pant leg, examining the muscles with practiced fingers.
"Hm…" he murmured. "There is new tension in the quadriceps. Much stronger than last month."
Mrs. Lawrence clasped her hands excitedly. "I knew it."
Mila's eyes shone—but not in admiration.
No.
She looked calculating.
Aiden cleared his throat. "It's… just small progress."
"I wouldn't call this small," Dr. Harris said. "This type of improvement usually takes months. Someone has been working very hard with you."
He glanced at Mia.
Mia froze.
She quickly looked away, pretending to arrange therapy tools on the shelf.
Aiden saw the panic in her face.
She didn't want to be acknowledged—not like this.
Not in front of people who would bombard her with expectations she never asked for.
"Let's continue the test," Dr. Harris said.
Aiden tried to lift his foot when the doctor asked—but Mia saw the way his jaw tightened.
His leg shook.
He was trying too hard.
Too self-conscious.
Dr. Harris frowned. "Hmm. That's odd. The muscle feels stronger than what you're showing."
Mia swallowed hard.
Aiden was forcing himself.
Because he thought he had to prove something.
Because his mother was here.
Because Mila was watching every twitch.
Mia stepped forward quickly.
"His leg tends to get stiff if he overworks it before breakfast. We did a heavier stretch today."
She lied.
Smoothly.
Naturally.
Dr. Harris paused. "Ah, that explains it."
Aiden shot her a small, grateful look.
Mia continued, adding more:
"And yesterday he pushed himself harder during therapy. Sometimes progress comes in waves; some days his leg is stronger, others it's tired."
Mrs. Lawrence nodded slowly. "Mia always knows these little details."
Mila's eyes narrowed.
Very slowly.
Dr. Harris continued the examination, using instruments, checking reflexes, analyzing muscle activation.
Aiden did what he could—but Mia kept stepping in at the right moments, redirecting questions, cushioning expectations, softening results.
Because she knew Aiden.
And she knew pressure suffocated him.
When the doctor asked him to try standing between the parallel bars, Aiden hesitated.
Mia whispered softly, only loud enough for him:
"Relax. Don't show everything. Just what you're comfortable with."
Aiden nodded, calming.
He lifted himself a little less than he could.
Just enough to satisfy, not enough to trigger overwhelming attention.
Mia watched him, her face warm with pride even if she was the only one who knew he was holding back.
Dr. Harris stepped back, impressed.
"This is promising. Very promising."
Mrs. Lawrence nearly burst with joy.
"I knew it! My son is finally healing."
Mila gave a sweet-but-fake clap.
"Amazing, Aiden."
But her eyes flicked to Mia.
And Mia knew—that look was dangerous.
After the Check-Up
Dr. Harris packed his tools away, discussing follow-up routines with Mrs. Lawrence. Mila kept tugging on her aunt's arm, whispering—but loud enough for Mia to hear:
"She's exaggerating his progress."
"She's trying to control the treatment."
"She's not even a certified specialist."
"Aiden needs better care."
Mia pretended not to hear.
She knew envy when she saw it.
Aiden's mother hugged him tightly. "We will bring Dr. Harris every three days to monitor you."
Aiden grimaced. He hated the idea but didn't argue.
Before leaving, Dr. Harris turned to Mia and smiled politely.
"Keep monitoring his circulation. Whatever you're doing… keep doing it."
Mia only nodded shyly.
But Mila's face twisted ever so slightly at those words.
When They Finally Left…
The door closed.
Silence again.
Aiden exhaled loudly. "That was exhausting."
"I'm sorry," Mia said. "I should have warned you."
"It's not your fault." He looked at her. "Thank you… for protecting my progress."
She shrugged gently. "You work better without pressure."
Aiden watched her carefully the way she avoided the spotlight, the way she refused praise, the way she stood up for him in small, subtle ways.
He owed her more than he could say.
But Mia didn't need his thanks.
What she did… she did because she cared.
Aiden didn't know yet why that mattered so much.
But it did.
Outside the Room…
Mila walked alongside Mrs. Lawrence down the hall, her fake smile fading the moment they turned the corner.
"That girl… Mia…" Mila muttered, fists tightening. "She's getting too comfortable."
Mrs. Lawrence didn't reply, too joyful to notice.
But Mila's mind was already racing.
If Mia is the reason Aiden is getting better… everyone will value her more than me.
Aiden might start liking her.
They'll trust her, listen to her, keep her close.
And I can't let that happen.
A slow, wicked smile touched her lips.
She had already begun forming a plan.
A plan to get rid of Mia.