The man frowned, irritation flickering.
“What did you say?”
“If you believed there was even a chance you could walk again,” Nina continued, “then that money would be a risk. But you are certain you will never have to give it away.”
One of the men behind him laughed awkwardly, though it died quickly when the man in the chair did not join.
“And what makes you think you understand anything about me?” he asked.
Nina hesitated only briefly.
“My grandmother used to help people,” she said. “She said the body listens long before it obeys, and pain often lives where no one looks.”
The man scoffed, though something in his expression had shifted.
“Stories,” he said dismissively.
“I am not here to impress you,” Nina replied. “I am trying to understand why hurting others makes you feel safer.”
That struck something raw. The laughter did not return. For the first time, doubt crept into the man’s posture, not in his legs but in his chest, tightening his breath.
“What if I wanted to try?” he asked quietly, surprising himself as much as anyone else. “What if I do not know how anymore?”
Nina’s gaze softened, not in triumph but in recognition.
“Then stop laughing at pain,” she said. “Start listening to it.”