The tears came in waves, blurring the bustling scene before me. I was just a child, abandoned in an airport by the one person who was supposed to protect me. But even in my distress, a small, determined voice inside me whispered that I had to be strong. I needed help, and fast.
I remembered my father—my real father. Though he was often a distant figure, living a life filled with business deals and luxury far beyond my comprehension, he had always been kind to me. I had his business card tucked safely in the pocket of my purple backpack—just in case. My mother had scoffed when she saw I kept it, but now it was my lifeline.
With trembling fingers, I dialed the number. Each ring felt like an eternity, and I feared he wouldn’t answer. But then his familiar voice came through, steady and reassuring. “Hello? This is Robert.”
