Next door, new neighbors were moving in—Nina and James, with their daughter, Maya.
Maya stopped playing and tilted her head.
“Mom,” she said softly. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Nina asked.
“Someone crying,” Maya said.
James laughed gently. “No one lives there.”
But that night, James saw something behind the fence.
Tiny footprints.
Bare feet.
Fresh.
The next morning, Maya looked through a cracked window of the old house.
And froze.
“There’s a kid in there,” she whispered.
Inside, curled on the floor, was Leo.
Nina’s heart dropped.
“That’s a child,” James said quietly.
They opened the door carefully.
Leo woke with a start, panic flooding his face. He backed away, hands raised to protect himself.
Nina knelt down, making herself small.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I won’t hurt you.”
Maya stepped forward and held out a piece of bread with both hands.
“You can have this.”
Leo stared.
His stomach growled loudly.
He grabbed the bread but didn’t eat right away. He just held it, afraid.
Then he took a small bite.
Nina placed her hand on the floor near him, not touching.
“You’re safe,” she said.
Leo placed his hand near hers.
Not touching.
Just close.
That night, they called for help.