Then, a man approached, his face etched with concern. “What happened? How did he get all the way over here?”
This man looked nothing like Finn. He was tall, with dark hair and a stern expression.
“This is my husband, David,” Finn’s mother said, introducing him.
David looked at Finn, then at his wife, confusion written on his face. “But… I thought he was with you?”
That’s when it hit me. They hadn’t even realized Finn was missing until just now. They hadn’t been looking for him. They hadn’t been worried.
The relief I had felt moments before turned into a cold, hard knot of anger in my stomach. How could they be so careless? How could they not know where their own child was for hours?
The twist came later that evening. I couldn’t shake the image of Finn crawling into my lap, the way he had clung to me like I was his lifeline. I called the number the security officer had given me for child protective services, just to check in.
The social worker I spoke with was hesitant to give me details, but she confirmed that they were looking into the situation. Apparently, Finn’s parents had given conflicting stories about who was supposed to be watching him on the plane. There were also some other red flags, things she couldn’t disclose.
Days turned into weeks, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Finn. I felt this unexpected connection to him, this fierce protectiveness that surprised even myself.
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