The mountain stood quiet, cloaked in white. Alex clicked into his skis, heart pounding louder than the whispering wind.

It had been three years since the accident. Three years since he’d felt snow beneath him. The doctors said he’d walk again—maybe. Skiing? Out of the question.

But Alex wasn’t here to prove anyone wrong. He was here to prove something to himself.

He pushed forward.

The skis slid into motion. Slow, uncertain at first. Then faster, smoother. The cold bit at his face, and the wind howled past his ears, but the fear that once held him melted with each turn.

The trees blurred. The world narrowed to snow and motion. He remembered his father’s voice, teaching him to trust the mountain, not fight it. That memory guided his body as instinct returned.

Midway down, he hit a patch of powder and nearly fell—but didn’t. Instead, he laughed. It was raw and real, echoing in the open air.

He reached the bottom, breathless and shaking, but standing tall. Around him, the world carried on: skiers, snow, sunlight.

But inside him, something had shifted.

Alex had come to face fear. Instead, he found freedom.

And maybe… even himself.