CHAPTER 3: THE WEIGHT OF FIVE YEARS
CHAPTER 3: THE WEIGHT OF FIVE YEARS
Daniel glanced at the baby again.
“He okay?” he asked.
Lucy nodded quickly. “He’s sleeping. He doesn’t cry much.”
That sentence should’ve been a relief.
But it wasn’t.
Because babies don’t stop crying unless they’ve learned there’s no one coming.
“How old are you, Lucy?”
She hesitated, then raised her hand.
Five fingers.
Small. Dirty. Trembling slightly.
“Five,” she said.
Daniel felt something tighten in his chest.
Five years old.
Carrying a baby.
Alone.
He swallowed hard. “And the baby?”
Lucy looked down at the bundle in her arms, her expression changing instantly.
Softening.
Protecting.
“He’s Leo,” she said quietly. “My brother.”
A pause.
Then, even quieter:
“I promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.”
Daniel looked away for a second—not because he didn’t want to see her, but because he didn’t trust his own voice anymore.
When he looked back, his decision had already formed.
May you like
Not as an officer.
As a human being.
