From that day forward, Lucas waited for her each morning, listening for her footsteps on the garden path. He laughed more, spoke more, and seemed lighter, a change that eventually caught Matthew’s attention. When he learned that a cleaning woman was spending time with his son, his reaction was immediate and dismissive.
“She is staff,” he said coldly. “She has no business filling his head with nonsense.”
Lucas protested for the first time in his life, telling his father that Abigail made the world feel less dark, even if he still could not see it. Matthew refused to listen, blinded by his belief that only professionals and money held value.
Then something unexpected happened. One afternoon, while Abigail sat beside Lucas in the garden, guiding him through a quiet breathing exercise, he suddenly frowned and blinked repeatedly.
“There is something,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “It feels like a spark.”
Abigail grew still, her expression serious, though she said nothing. Over the next few days, Lucas began reaching for objects with unusual precision, describing vague shapes and changes in brightness that defied every medical explanation Matthew had ever been given.