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News of the comet’s return spread quickly through the astronomical community. This time it wasn’t just Elias alone on a city street — telescopes across the globe confirmed the sighting, data logged, photos captured. It was real. Undeniable.
And yet, Elias’s colleagues reacted with smug satisfaction rather than awe.
“Well, what do you know,” muttered one in the faculty lounge. “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
Another chuckled. “Thorne lucked into a comet. Doesn’t change the fact he’s wasted decades.”
But Elias no longer felt their words pierce. For the first time in years, their scorn slid off like water. Because the comet wasn’t just in the sky — it was beside him, paint-stained hands steady on the wheel, laughter returning to his nights.
Claire had come back. That was the miracle.
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