I didn’t notice him at first, absorbed in my audiobook. Then a small hand tugged at my sleeve. A little boy, maybe three or four, with red eyes from crying, climbed into my lap. He curled up like he belonged there, and I froze. No one said anything. He fell asleep, trusting me.When the flight ended, I asked a woman next to me about his parents. She thought I was his mother. The boy,

Finn, didn’t know where his parents were. Security got involved but no one came for him. I offered to stay with him until they were found. Eventually, a tearful woman arrived,followed by a man, both unaware Finn was missing.Later, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I called a social worker, who informed me his parents weren’t getting custody back. Without thinking,

I asked if I could foster him. After many steps, they agreed.Finn came to live with me. It wasn’t easy,but over time, we grew close. Six months later, his parents regained custody. Saying goodbye was the hardest part, but I told him I’d always be there for him. Even in small,