Chapter 5: Light Years Traveled

The silence that followed Matthew’s presentation was heavier than any silence the boy had ever known. Then, slowly, a prominent tech investor in the front row stood up and began to clap. Within seconds, the entire library erupted into a standing ovation. Cameras flashed, but this time, Matthew didn't flinch.
Alexander Vale did not become a perfect father overnight. Years of emotional distance couldn't be erased by a single presentation. But that night, the plans for the Swiss institute were quietly shredded.
A week later, Alexander walked into the greenhouse. He looked incredibly uncomfortable, out of place among the dirt and ivy in his thousand-dollar suit. Matthew and Lucy were sitting by the telescope.
Alexander knelt down awkwardly. He lifted his hands, his fingers stiff and clumsy, and slowly signed: I am trying. Sorry.
Matthew’s eyes widened. He looked at Lucy, who smiled brightly, and then back at his father. Matthew nodded and signed back, Thank you.
Four years later, the greenhouse was no longer abandoned. It had been officially converted into a state-of-the-art observatory.
Sixteen-year-old Matthew stood at the massive telescope, adjusting the lens. He was taller now, confident, and the lead developer of an astronomy app that was currently being used in deaf education programs across the country.
Footsteps echoed on the slate floor. Fifteen-year-old Lucy walked in, carrying two mugs of hot cocoa. She set them down and bumped her shoulder against his.
Find anything good? she signed, her movements effortless and fast.
Matthew pulled away from the eyepiece and smiled. He didn't point at the sky. Instead, he looked at the girl in the simple blue sweater—the girl who had crossed a crowded ballroom when everyone else had looked away.
May you like
I found the brightest star a long time ago, he signed.
Lucy laughed, the sound warm and bright in the quiet room. Together, they looked up at the night sky, proving Samuel Harper right: they hadn't left anyone behind, and they were never going to be alone again.