I was sitting quietly with my five-year-old son at the wedding banquet of my sister. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and whispered, “Mom… let’s go home. Right now.” I asked, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He began to tremble and said, “Mom… you haven’t looked under the table… have you?” I slowly bent down to look— and froze. I gripped his hand tightly… and quietly stood up.

I was sitting quietly with my five-year-old son at the wedding banquet of my sister. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and whispered, “Mom… let’s go home. Right now.” I asked, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He began to tremble and said, “Mom… you haven’t looked under the table… have you?” I slowly bent down to look— and froze. I gripped his hand tightly… and quietly stood up.

The wedding banquet was already in full swing when I finally managed to sit down with my five-year-old son, Ethan. My sister, Caroline, looked radiant, the hall filled with soft golden light and the low murmur of guests dining and laughing. I was enjoying a rare moment of calm—Ethan was never patient during long events—when he suddenly tightened his grip on my hand.

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