BFF

Physical therapy

Three weeks later.

Tia – POV

I threw the damn ball across the room.

"I can't do this shit," I muttered, my voice trembling with frustration.

Physical therapy had been kicking my ass. I hated how weak my body felt—how simple things like walking, stretching, or even balancing were now challenges. Being bedridden for so long stripped me of everything I took for granted. My leg dragged like it had a mind of its own, and this crutch? I hated it. I felt clumsy, unstable, and irritated every time I leaned on it.

It had only been a week since I got out the hospital, but I'd been pushing myself nonstop to get right again. I couldn't sit around anymore. I wanted to take my kids out. Go on a date with my husband. Live again. I didn't want to feel like a burden in my own body.

"It takes time, Tia. I promise," Tammy, my physical therapist, said gently. "I'm here to help you through this."

Dave was sitting nearby, arms crossed, watching everything.

"Yo ass need to relax," he said, shaking his head. "You trying to rush it. This is a process—you overdoing it. Take it step by step. It'll come back to you."

I turned on him. "Dave, I'm tired of this shit. I need this process to hurry up. You don't understand."

He looked at Tammy. "Give us a minute."

"Of course." She gave my shoulder a soft pat and stepped out.

Dave moved closer, crouched in front of me.

"So, me—out of all people—don't understand?" he asked quietly. "Tia, I've been here before. Shot more times than I care to count, and every time I had to fight to get my body back. I had no choice but to take it one day at a time. Rushing it ain't do nothing but make it worse. Trust me, baby. I do understand."

His voice hit me hard, cutting right through the frustration. The tears came without warning.

"I know, mamas," he whispered, brushing a tear from my cheek. "It's gonna be okay."

I sniffled. "Okay... but she needs to take it up a notch. I can handle it."

"How about you let the professional do her job?" he said, giving me a side-eye.

I waved him off just as Tammy walked back in.

"You are one of my strongest clients, Tia," she said, smiling at me. "I never have to push you or motivate you extra. And I love that. But you're too hard on yourself. This type of recovery can't be rushed. If you try, you risk doing more harm than good. I've been doing this for fifteen years. Trust me."

"She said what she said," Dave added, arms crossed again like he was her hype man.

I sighed. "Ugh, you're right. I'll follow your lead. I promise."

"Good," Tammy nodded. "Let's get you on the leg machine. We'll start with five pounds."

"I can do ten," I challenged.

"Mamas..." Dave warned.

"Okay, okay," I said, throwing my hands up.

Tammy laughed.

Once I started the workout, I could feel the difference immediately. With just five pounds, my leg extended all the way up—smooth, controlled. When I used twenty pounds, I could barely lift it halfway.

"See?" Tammy smiled. "This is progress. It's better for your joints when you can fully extend. That's how they gain strength. Piling on weight you can't lift just strains your muscles."