PART 2: “You? Fix my leg?”

“You? Fix my leg?”

The laughter burst instantly—

loud—

careless—

spreading across the patio.

A glass clink echoed.

Guests leaned back—

enjoying it—

watching the moment like entertainment.

The boy didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

“I can help.”

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

More laughter.

The wealthy man leaned forward—

smiling—

mocking—

“Do it in seconds… I’ll pay you a million.”

The words hung in the air.

Then—

something shifted.

The laughter faded.

Just slightly.

Micah stepped closer.

Barefoot.

Unafraid.

He reached out—

gently—

placing his small hand on the man’s leg.

Close.

Still.

“Count with me.”

A beat.

The man smirked—

ready to dismiss it—

“This is ridicu—”

He stopped.

Mid-word.

His face froze.

His breath caught.

A movement.

Small.

Almost nothing.

His foot—

twitched.

Silence slammed the table.

Hard.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

“…what…?”

His voice dropped—

shaken—

unrecognizable.

Micah didn’t look away.

“One… two…”

Quiet.

Steady.

The leg moved again.

Slight.

Real.

A woman gasped.

“…I felt that…”

The words broke out of him—

fragile—

disbelieving—

Close-up—

his eyes—

fear—

hope—

colliding all at once.

Micah looked up—

calm—

certain—

“Keep counting.”

The man tried again—

focused—

desperate—

And the muscle responded.

Again.

Stronger.

The entire table froze.

Phones raised.

Breath held.

Because something impossible was happening—

right in front of them—

And just as he was about to stand—

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