I could feel the heat rising in my chest, not from anger, but from an instinctual need to protect my son. I looked into Leo’s eyes, seeing a mixture of fear and trust. He needed me to be strong, to make sense of the chaos that had invaded his young life.
“Leo,” I said softly, but firmly, “you did the right thing by coming here. I’m proud of you for being brave.”
He nodded, tears welling up in his eyes, and I squeezed his small hand reassuringly. The nurse had stepped out, giving us a moment of privacy, but I knew she was making calls—perhaps to the police, or social services.
