Tears of joy streamed down their faces as they embraced their son. Pete felt a deep sense of relief mixed with an unexpected sorrow. He had done the right thing, but a part of him didn’t want to let go of the boy who had become so dear to him.
But then, the boy’s mother said something that chilled Pete to the core: “Thank you for taking care of our son. But… we are part of something you wouldn’t understand. Liam is not an ordinary child. You weren’t supposed to keep him this long.”
Before Pete could respond, Liam’s father handed him a sealed envelope. “Open this when it rains,” he said solemnly, his eyes locked onto Pete’s. Pete, who had spent the last week considering legal counsel for emergency custody and possibly even applying for child welfare benefits, was left speechless.
And then, as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone, disappearing into the night with Liam in tow.
That night, as the rain began to fall again, Pete sat in his living room, staring at the envelope in his hand. His heart was heavy, and his mind raced with confusion. What could they have meant by that comment? And why the strange request to open the envelope only when it rained?
Pete’s curiosity got the better of him, and he carefully opened the envelope. Inside was an old, faded photograph of Liam—only this wasn’t the same boy Pete had cared for over the past week. This boy was younger, with a slightly different expression, but unmistakably the same child. On the back of the photograph were the words: “Taken in 1963 – the day this boy disappeared at the exact spot you found him.”
