Chapter 64: Step by Step

The sound of the therapy center was filled with the steady hum of machines, the rhythmic beat of treadmills, and the occasional grunt of effort from the athletes and patients pushing their bodies to their limits. For Rohan Singh, the rehabilitation center had become a second home over the past few weeks. It wasn't the kind of home he wanted, but it was the place where he would rebuild himself.

The long road to recovery stretched out before him, and he was taking it step by painful step.

Rohan lay on a padded table, his leg elevated as the physical therapist, Rajiv, gently manipulated his hamstring, testing its flexibility. Rohan winced as a sharp twinge of pain shot through his leg, his muscles protesting the movement. But he clenched his jaw and forced himself to breathe through the discomfort. Pain was now a constant companion, but Rohan had learned to accept it as part of the process.

"How's it feeling today?" Rajiv asked, his eyes focused on Rohan's leg as he continued the slow, methodical stretches.

"Better," Rohan lied. In truth, his leg still felt tight, like the muscles were wrapped in knots that refused to release. But he didn't want to sound like he was complaining, not when so many others around him were pushing through their own struggles.

Rajiv looked up, his expression knowing. "It's okay to admit it hurts. You're not doing yourself any favors by pretending otherwise."

Rohan sighed, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "It hurts," he admitted. "But it's getting better. Slowly."

Rajiv nodded, continuing the stretches. "That's how it goes with hamstring injuries. It's a slow process, and it's going to take time before you feel like yourself again. But every small improvement is progress. You just have to be patient."

Patience. It was a word Rohan had heard so many times now that it had become almost meaningless. Patience wasn't something that had come easily to him as an athlete. He was used to pushing through pain, to fighting for every inch, every second. But this injury was different. No matter how hard he pushed, his body wouldn't heal any faster. He had to work with the pain, not against it.

The rehabilitation process was grueling, far more difficult than Rohan had anticipated. The exercises started small—gentle stretches, basic mobility drills, movements that seemed insignificant compared to the intense training he had been used to. But Rajiv had explained that these small exercises were the foundation upon which Rohan's recovery would be built. If he rushed, if he tried to do too much too soon, he risked reinjuring himself and undoing all the progress he had made.

Rohan had never been good at taking things slow, but this time he had no choice.

After finishing the stretches, Rajiv helped Rohan up from the table and guided him to the treadmill. This was the part of the session that Rohan dreaded the most. Running had once been second nature to him, something he could do without thinking. But now, every step was a battle. His leg felt heavy, awkward, and uncooperative, as though it belonged to someone else. Each time he took a step on the treadmill, he could feel the strain in his hamstring, the tightness in the muscle reminding him of how far he still had to go.

"Let's start slow," Rajiv said, setting the treadmill to a low speed. "We're not worried about speed or distance right now. We're just focusing on proper form and getting your body used to the motion again."

Rohan nodded, though frustration gnawed at him. The slow pace felt excruciating, not because it was physically difficult, but because it reminded him of everything he had lost. He had once been a world-class runner, capable of outrunning almost anyone on the track. Now, he could barely manage a light jog without feeling like his leg was about to give out.

But he had to start somewhere.

As he moved on the treadmill, focusing on keeping his stride even and controlled, Rohan's mind wandered to the races he had missed—the World Championships that had come and gone without him, the international events that his competitors had dominated while he sat on the sidelines. The ache in his chest was almost as sharp as the pain in his leg.

He knew it wasn't healthy to dwell on what he had lost, but it was hard not to. Every step on the treadmill felt like a reminder of how far he had fallen. But at the same time, he knew that this was the only way forward. If he wanted to get back to the track, if he wanted to reclaim his place among the best, he had to endure this.

"You're doing well," Rajiv said, interrupting Rohan's thoughts. "Keep your posture upright. Don't hunch over."

Rohan adjusted his posture, forcing himself to focus on the mechanics of running rather than the emotions swirling in his mind. He knew that every session, every small improvement, was a step in the right direction, no matter how slow it felt.

---

The days blended together, each one filled with a cycle of rehabilitation exercises, stretching, and therapy. Rohan's world had become a routine of controlled movements, careful monitoring, and gradual improvements. But while his leg slowly regained strength, Rohan found himself struggling with the mental toll of his injury.

One evening, after another exhausting session at the rehab center, Rohan sat in his apartment, staring blankly at the television. His mind drifted back to the days when he could run freely, when the wind whipped through his hair and the ground seemed to disappear beneath his feet. He missed that feeling—the freedom, the exhilaration. Running had always been more than just a sport to him. It had been an escape, a release, and now that it was gone, he felt trapped.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts. He hadn't been expecting visitors, but when he opened the door, he found Rahul standing there with a wide grin on his face.

"Hey, bhaiya," Rahul said, holding up a bag of snacks. "I figured you could use some company."

Rohan smiled weakly, stepping aside to let his brother in. "You're right about that."

Rahul plopped down on the couch, setting the snacks on the coffee table. "How's rehab going?"

"Slow," Rohan admitted, sitting down beside him. "But I'm getting there. I just… I don't know. It's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel sometimes."

Rahul nodded, his expression serious. "I get that. But you're making progress, right? Even if it's slow, you're still moving forward."

Rohan sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "Yeah, but it's hard not to get frustrated. I feel like I'm miles behind everyone else. Like I'm never going to catch up."

Rahul reached for one of the snacks, tearing open the package and tossing a chip into his mouth. "Bhaiya, you've been through tougher things than this. I know this injury sucks, but you're stronger than you think. And besides, you've got the whole family behind you. We're not going to let you give up."

Rohan couldn't help but smile at his brother's optimism. Rahul had always been the quieter one, but since the injury, he had been a steady source of support. His visits, though casual, were a reminder that Rohan wasn't facing this alone.

"You're right," Rohan said, leaning back against the couch. "I just need to keep reminding myself that this is temporary. It feels like it's going to last forever, but it won't."

Rahul nodded. "Exactly. And hey, even if you're not running yet, you're still an athlete. That part of you hasn't gone anywhere."

Rohan appreciated the sentiment, but it was hard to feel like an athlete when he spent most of his days limping through rehab exercises. Still, Rahul's words stuck with him. He wasn't just defined by his ability to run. There was more to him than that, even if it was hard to see right now.

As the evening wore on, Rohan and Rahul talked about everything from old childhood memories to the latest cricket matches, and for the first time in weeks, Rohan felt a sense of normalcy. His injury hadn't taken away everything. He still had his family, his friends, and his determination.

And maybe that was enough to get him through the tough days.