When my daughter Jane dropped off my grandson Tommy, claiming a sudden work trip, I didn’t worry—until I opened his suitcase. Inside were clothes for every season, medications, and an envelope of cash labeled with my name. Her phone was off, and no one had seen her.
Days later, she video-called. Jane looked tired and distant. “I’m on a secret assignment,” she said, offering no details.
Eventually, I learned the truth. Jane had been hiding Tommy’s father, “a dangerous man who had resurfaced.” Afraid for Tommy’s safety, she left him with me and erased all traces of him from her home.
Weeks passed. Jane returned—still exhausted and guarded—but relieved. She thanked me and took Tommy home.
As I watched them leave, I silently prayed the shadows she escaped would never return.
