The boy stared at her, confused by the tears suddenly falling down her face.

“Buried?” he whispered.

The woman couldn’t answer at first.

She held the bracelet like it was alive.

Then she turned it over and saw the tiny engraving inside.

Leo.

Her knees almost gave out.

The boy’s lips trembled.

“That’s my name.”

A hairdryer stopped.

The salon went completely silent.

The woman looked at the boy’s face now, really looked at him.

The shape of his eyes.

The small dimple near his cheek.

The scar above his eyebrow.

The same scar her baby had when she kissed him goodbye in the hospital.

“No,” she cried softly. “No, they told me you died.”

The boy clutched his plastic bag to his chest.

“My mother said I was found outside a church. She said a rich lady cried for me, but someone took me away.”

The woman turned slowly toward the mirror.

Behind her stood her own mother, perfectly dressed, frozen near the salon entrance.

The boy saw the fear in the older woman’s face.

The rich woman whispered, “Mom… what did you do?”

Her mother’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

The boy stepped back, scared.

The woman dropped to her knees in front of him, her white suit touching the salon floor.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I thought I buried you.”

The boy’s eyes filled.

“Then why do I feel like I’ve been waiting for you?”