The boy launched himself forward. They crashed together, James’s arms locking around his son as though he might vanish again if he let go even an inch. Harsh, broken sobs tore from James’s throat. Daniel clung to him, face pressed to his father’s shoulder, whispering “You came… you came…”
Elena stood a few paces away, arms wrapped around herself, watching quietly. She had expected gratitude, maybe money. Not this raw, unraveling reunion under the open sky.
After what felt like forever, James lifted his head, eyes red. “How long has he been here?”
“About five months,” Elena said softly. “Some men dropped him off one night. Said he talked too much, cried too much. Left him with nothing but that photo and the clothes he was wearing. I gave him food when I could. Blanket when it got cold. He told me his name. I remembered the reward posters. I kept waiting for someone who looked like they’d believe a kid from here.”
James stared at her. “You could have called the hotline. Taken the money. Why didn’t you?”