Before I could say anything else, people stepped between us at the counter. By the time I moved around them, the old man had already walked outside.
“Wait!” I rushed after him.
The sidewalks were crowded and I struggled to keep up.
But then I noticed something strange.
He wasn’t stopping to ask anyone for money. He wasn’t eating the bun or drinking the tea.
He was walking with purpose.
So instead of trying to catch him, I followed him.
We walked for blocks until we reached the edge of the city.
There he stopped in front of an abandoned house surrounded by weeds and overgrown grass.
The old man knocked gently on the door.
I hid behind a tree nearby and watched.
The door creaked open.
“You said I should tell you if anyone ever asked about the jacket…” the old man said.
I peeked around the tree.
And my breath caught in my throat.
“Ethan!”
My son stood in the doorway.
His eyes widened in shock.
Then a shadow moved behind him. Ethan glanced back at it—and suddenly ran.
“Ethan, wait!” I rushed forward.
I burst into the house and chased him through a hallway. A back door slammed open and I saw Ethan and a girl sprinting toward the woods.
“Ethan!”
I ran after them, shouting his name.
But they were faster.