No one even shifted in their seat.
Behind me, the young woman who had encouraged me gave a small, sad smile.
“You just saved them,” she said softly. “You should keep them.”
Her words startled me.
I shifted the babies carefully in my arms and returned to my seat.
As the flight continued, I spoke with her quietly. I told her about my daughter. About my grandson. About the funeral that was waiting for me when the plane landed.
I told her about the heavy silence I feared returning to in my home.
She listened carefully.
Then she asked me where I lived.
I gave a small, tired smile.
“Anyone can find my house,” I said. “It’s the bright yellow one with the oak tree growing right through the porch.”
When the plane finally landed, I carried the babies with me to airport security.
The staff immediately contacted social services.
They searched the entire airport.
They checked every passenger list, every security camera, every possible lead.
But no one came forward.
No one claimed the twins.
