The world felt as though it had tilted off its axis, reality slipping through my grasp like sand. I sat on the cold metal bench, Mikey cradled in my arms, trying to process what my father had just revealed. An explosive device? Someone wanted to kill us?
The old woman watched me, her gaze steady and unwavering, as if she could sense the storm raging inside me. “He’s coming for you,” she reassured, her voice softening. “Just hold on a little longer.”
I nodded, though it felt like my mind was a fractured mirror, reflecting shards of disbelief and fear. I clutched my son closer, burying my face in his soft, warm head. His innocent, rhythmic breathing was the only thing anchoring me to the present.
