When James insisted we sleep in separate rooms, I was crushed.

After five years of navigating life in a wheelchair,

I thought we were in it together.

But suddenly, I was alone at night, haunted by doubts and silence.

Then came the strange noises — faint thumps, metallic clinks — and my heart filled with fear.

Each night, I imagined the worst: Was he hiding something?

Was he trying to leave quietly, piece by piece?

One night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I rolled down the hallway,

nerves on edge, and reached for his doorknob — unlocked for the first time.

Inside, I didn’t find betrayal.

I found James surrounded by tools, blueprints, and handmade furniture.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he said gently.

He’d been building a lift system,

custom drawers — everything to make my life easier.

Tears streamed down my face

. I had mistaken love in action for distance.

That night, when he climbed back into bed beside me

, I whispered, “Welcome home.”

He smiled, holding me close.

“I never left, Pam.

I was just making room for us to grow.”

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