— “God uses the people who are willing to see, Mr. Miller. That’s what my grandmother always said.”
David nodded. She was right.
They went back to Mike’s room together. The boy was sitting on the bed with a pair of headphones on, listening to music for the first time. His face was a picture of pure, unadulterated joy.
When he saw them, he pulled the headphones off and ran straight to Vicky. He threw his arms around her waist.
— “Thank you!” he said, his voice clear and bright.
She hugged him back.
— “You always deserved to hear, Mike. Always.”
Mike pulled back and looked at his father.
— “Dad, I can hear your heart. It’s beating really fast.”
David sat down and pulled his son into a tight embrace. For the first time in eight years, Mike heard his father cry. They were tears of relief and a new beginning.
And Vicky, standing by the door, finally let out a long breath. Her prayer had been answered. Not with gold or high technology, but with steady hands and a heart that refused to look away. Sometimes, that’s all it takes for a miracle to happen.
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