Lina sat in her wheelchair beneath the old cherry blossom tree, watching the petals fall like pink snowflakes. The garden had always been her sanctuary—a place where the world didn’t see her as just a girl with weak legs, but as someone strong, someone free.
She ran her fingers along the velvety petals of a rose, feeling its softness. “Even a flower that stays rooted blooms beautifully,” she whispered to herself.
A little boy, no older than six, ran up to her. “Miss Lina, will you tell me a story?” he asked, his wide eyes full of wonder.
She smiled. “Of course, Alex. What kind of story?”
“One about a warrior,” he said, sitting cross-legged beside her.
Lina’s heart warmed. “Did you know warriors don’t always carry swords? Some fight battles you cannot see. Like the girl who learned to dance with her hands when her legs could not, or the boy who painted the sky with colors even when he could not see.”
Alex listened, his head tilted in thought. “Like you?” he asked softly.
Lina chuckled. “Maybe. But my battle is not about fighting—it’s about growing. Just like this garden, I bloom in my own way.”
As the wind rustled through the trees, scattering more petals around them, Lina closed her eyes and felt something deep inside her—peace. She wasn’t confined by her wheelchair. She was limitless, just like the flowers around her, reaching for the sky.
And in that moment, she knew—she was not just a girl in a garden. She was the garden itself, full of life, full of beauty, and full of strength.
