Kostya, are you out of your mind? Do you think I’m inviting you to live with me for money? I just feel sorry for you, that’s all.

“Kyle, have you lost your mind? You think Id let you live with me just for money? I feel sorry for you, thats all.”

Kyle sat in his wheelchair, staring through the dusty hospital windows at the empty courtyard below. His room faced the inner groundsusually a quiet little garden with benches and flowerbeds, but now, in the dead of winter, it was deserted. Worse still, he was alone. A week ago, his roommate, Jake Thompson, had been discharged, and since then, the silence had been unbearable.

Jake had been a lively bloke, always cracking jokes and spinning wild stories like a proper actorwhich he was, studying theatre at uni. With him around, boredom was impossible. Plus, Jakes mum visited daily, bringing homemade cakes and sweets, which he always shared with Kyle. Now, without him, the room felt colder, and Kyle had never felt more alone.

His gloomy thoughts were interrupted when Nurse Linda marched in. His heart sankinstead of the sweet, young nurse Emily, it was *her*Linda, always scowling, never satisfied. In the two months hed been here, Kyle had never once seen her smile. Even her voice matched her facesharp, brusque, and utterly joyless.

“Oi, stop lazing about! Back to bed!” she barked, already holding a syringe.

Kyle sighed but obeyed, wheeling himself over. Linda helped him onto the mattress with practiced efficiency, flipping him onto his stomach.

“Trousers down,” she ordered, and Kyle braced himselfbut as always, she was quick, and the jab barely stung.

“Wonder how old she is,” he thought, watching her work. “Probably past retirement but still heresmall pension, no choice. No wonder shes always in a mood.”

Linda finally found his faint vein, and he winced slightly as the needle went in.

“Done. Has the doctor been in today?” she asked abruptly, already packing up.

“No, not yet,” Kyle mumbled. “Might come later…”

“Well, wait then. And stop sitting by the windowyoull catch a draft, skinny as a rake,” she said before leaving.

He almost took offense, but something in her rough tone felt… oddly caring. Like she was looking out for him, in her own way.

Not that he had anyone else to do it.

Kyle was an orphan. His parents had died when he was foura house fire in their little village cottage. He was the only survivor, left with a badly healed burn on his shoulder where his mum had shoved him through a window just before the roof collapsed.

He barely remembered them. Just flasheshis mum laughing at a village fair, waving a little flag. His dad lifting him onto his shoulders, the summer breeze on his cheeks. A ginger catmaybe called Whiskers or something. No photos survived. Nothing but fragments.

After the fire, he was sent to a childrens home. Relatives existed, but none took him in. At eighteen, the council gave him a small flat on the fourth floor of a block with no lift. He didnt mind living alone, but sometimes the loneliness hit so hard he could barely breathe.

Hed wanted to go to uni after school, but his grades fell short. So he settled for college, studying something practical. His classmates werent crueljust indifferent. Quiet and bookish, Kyle didnt fit in with their banter and nights out. Girls werent interested eitherhe was too shy, too awkward, and at eighteen, he still looked fifteen.

Two months ago, rushing to class, hed slipped on icy pavement in an underpass and shattered both legs. The fractures were bad, healing slowly and painfully. Now, though, things were finally looking up.

That afternoon, Dr. Harris, the ortho specialist, came in. After checking his scans, he smiled.

“Good news, Kyle. Your bones are healing properly. Another few weeks, and youll be on crutches. No point keeping you herefinish recovering at home. Your discharge papers will be ready soon. Someone picking you up?”

Kyle nodded silently.

“Brilliant. Nurse Linda will help you pack. Take care, and try not to break anything else, yeah?”

The second the doctor left, panic set in. His flat had no lift, no rampshow was he supposed to manage?

Linda bustled in moments later.

“Get packing,” she said, tossing his rucksack onto the bed. “Nurse Sarahs coming to change the sheets.”

As he stuffed his things inside, he felt her watching him.

“Whyd you lie to the doctor?” she asked bluntly.

“What?” Kyle feigned confusion.

“Dont play daft. No ones coming for you. Howre you getting home?”

“Ill manage,” he muttered.

“Youve got weeks before you can even *try* walking. Howre you going to live?”

“Ill figure it out. Not a kid.”

Linda sighed, then sat beside him.

“Kyle, this isnt my business, but… youll need help. You *cant* do this alone.”

“I can.”

“You *cant*,” she snapped. “Ive been in medicine thirty yearsyou think I dont know? Stop being stubborn!”

“Even if youre right, whyre you telling *me*?”

She hesitated, then said, “Stay with me. I live out in the sticks, but theres only two steps to the front door. And a spare room. Once youre back on your feet, you can leave. I live alonemy husbands gone, no kids.”

Kyle stared. Stay with *her*? They were strangers. And hed learned long ago not to rely on anyone.

“Well?” she pressed.

“Its… weird,” he mumbled.

“*Weird* is trying to live on your own in a wheelchair with no lift,” she scoffed. “So? Coming or not?”

He wavered. It *was* awkward, but… she wasnt wrong. And lately, hed noticed her small acts of carebringing extra pudding, nagging him to eat cheese for calcium, checking if hed closed the window.

“…Alright,” he said finally. “But I cant pay you. Student loan wont come till”

Linda cut him off, hands on hips. “*Kyle*. Do you *honestly* think Id charge you? I feel sorry for you, thats all.”

“Sorry, I didnt mean”

“Stop fussing. Wait in the nurses stationmy shift ends soon, and well go.”

Her cottage was small but cosy, with two snug roomsone now his. The first few days, he barely left it, terrified of inconveniencing her.

Linda noticed. “Stop being daft,” she said one evening. “Ask for what you needyoure not a guest.”

Gradually, he relaxed. The snow outside, the crackling fireplace, the smell of her cookingit all felt like home.

Weeks passed. The wheelchair was traded for crutches, then discarded entirely. On his last check-up, he limped beside her, chatting about catching up on missed exams.

“Take a deferral,” Linda scolded. “Your legs arent ready for all that rushing about!”

Theyd grown close. And Kyle realisedhe didnt want to leave. She felt like family. But he couldnt say it.

The next morning, as he packed, he turned to find Linda in the doorwaycrying. Without thinking, he hugged her tight.

“Stay,” she whispered. “Please.”

So he did. Years later, she sat proudly as “mother of the groom” at his wedding. And when his daughter was born, she was the first to hold little Lindanamed after the woman whod become his mum in every way that mattered.