In the backyard of the Yakov family.
Eddy Sherman hadn't spoken in far too long; his vocal cords had severely atrophied. He had been working hard to practice speaking, but still couldn't articulate his words clearly.
He could only utter some simple sentences, like a child learning to talk.
But the recovery of his limbs was relatively quick; he could now lift his hands slightly and even tried to grasp things.
"Mr. Sherman, the weather is great today. I am going to push you outside to enjoy some sun," the Nurse said as she helped Eddy into his wheelchair, looking at his resolute profile and couldn't help but blush slightly.
She had never seen someone who had lived as a vegetative person for so long, yet still looked nothing like a patient, like Eddy did.
Even sitting quietly in his wheelchair, he exuded a noble and mature air.
