“Yes?”
My voice came out small.
“It’s me. She left me here.”
Silence. Not confusion. Control.
“Stay there,” he said.
“How…?”
“Don’t move. Send me your location. Now.”
I did, my hands shaking. I stared down the arrivals corridor like it was a screen about to change scenes. Inside me there wasn’t hope—there was a practical kind of emptiness. If he didn’t come, I was literally no one to anyone.
Thirty minutes later, the airport began to buzz. Ground staff moving quickly. A black car with special clearance. A man with an earpiece asking for my name. I stood up, confused.
“Are you Camila Montes?” he asked.
I nodded.
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