“Dad?” she croaked, her voice raspy from disuse.

Richard was overwhelmed, a tidal wave of emotions crashing over him. Relief, joy, disbelief — all mingled with a gratitude so profound it rendered him speechless. Tears streamed down his face, his hand reaching instinctively to grasp Emily’s. She was awake. His beautiful, precious daughter was awake.

The room was a flurry of activity in an instant. Nurses rushed in, alerted by the change in Emily’s vital signs. Doctors followed, all sharing in the impossibility of what they were witnessing. The news spread like wildfire through the hospital, from room to room, floor to floor. A miracle had happened in Room 317.

In the days that followed, as Emily’s condition improved steadily, Richard found himself reflecting on the strange encounter with the barefoot boy. Attempts to find him proved fruitless. No records, no security footage, no witnesses beyond those first few moments. It was as if he had simply vanished, leaving nothing but a miracle in his wake.