They were approaching Gate 14 when a sound broke the stillness—a faint, wavering sob. Janet’s instincts sharpened instantly. The sound wasn’t the cheerful cry of an excited child, but something rawer.

She scanned the area. At first, she saw nothing unusual—just empty chairs and a few travelers scattered across the terminal. But then, by a vending machine near the gate, she spotted him.

A little boy, no older than five, stood frozen in place. His small backpack hung loosely over one shoulder. His blond hair stuck up in messy tufts, and his cheeks were wet with tears. He looked lost—more than lost, actually. He looked afraid.

Janet approached slowly, mindful not to startle him. Max stayed by her side, his ears twitching forward.