She picked up Johnny’s spoon and pushed it toward his mouth, pressing it against his lips. He turned his head away, silent tears streaming down his face.
“You’re not leaving until that plate is empty,” she said sharply.
I didn’t think.
I moved.
I pushed the door open so hard it slammed into the wall. A few staff members jumped in surprise as I marched across the room, my heart pounding, my hands clenched.
When Johnny saw me, his entire body sagged with relief. I scooped him into my arms, holding him close.
That was the moment I knew.
This wasn’t a phase.
This wasn’t separation anxiety.
And I wasn’t leaving that building until I had answers.
