I stood near the exit of the security gate, my heart beating fast.

I watched the passengers trickle out.

Businessmen in suits, families with strollers, tourists in bright shirts.

Then I saw them.

Dylan was carrying a large duffel bag, his shoulders hunched.

Chloe was walking beside him, her head down, clutching a stuffed animal she had owned since she was eight.

They looked tired and pale.

“Dylan! Chloe!” I called out.

Chloe looked up first.

Her eyes widened, and she dropped her bag and ran toward me.

She threw her arms around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder.

I held her tight, feeling her chest heave with quiet sobs.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered. “I’ve got you, baby.”

Dylan walked up, a small, relieved smile on his face.

He let go of his bag and joined the hug, wrapping his long arms around both of us.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said quietly.

“Let’s go home,” I said.

We walked out to the parking garage in silence.

Dylan put the luggage in the trunk.

When we got into the car, Chloe looked at me.