For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Victor remained standing, rooted to the spot as if the ground might shift beneath him if he dared to move. His chest rose and fell in uneven lunges, his eyes locked onto Evelyn as the word "alive" echoed through his mind. It was no longer a haunting memory or a desperate wish; it was a solid, undeniable truth. Evelyn could not take her eyes off him. Her son was standing, a sight she hadn't witnessed in years. When she finally found her voice, the usual authority was gone, replaced by a quiet, trembling shock. “Since when?” she asked again. This time, her voice was softer. Victor exhaled slowly, feeling as though the very air in the room had changed. “I should be asking you the same question,” he replied. His voice was steadier now, carrying a newfound weight that demanded respect. Evelyn took a step forward, her eyes searching his face for a sign of the man he used to be. “You can walk,” she breathed. Victor gave a faint, solemn nod. “Yes.
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