Every mother’s fear is to one day, after carrying out the same routine, getting her four-year-old out of bed, brushing his teeth, taming those fiery red curls, dressing him for school, dropping him at that school only to hear the teacher say these words:
“His uncle already came to get him.”
She’s staring at me, and I’m staring right back. Jenna stands behind me, silent, her eyes also fixed on the teacher.
“I’m sorry, what uncle?” I sound steadier than I feel. I have to keep calm because if I let my mind go, I’ll start imagining terrible things, what kind of person came here pretending to be Jayden’s uncle, and where has he taken my son.
“You sent him to pick him up, didn’t you?” The teacher reads my expression correctly and her confidence begins to fade. “Didn’t you?” she repeats, quie
