My daughter was gone with the babysitter when I got home. 
She was at the airport, according to her AirTag 
My only child is my five-year-old daughter, Lily. I hired Jessica, a compassionate and trustworthy college student with outstanding recommendations, to watch her while I worked because she had been feeling poorly for the past several days.
When I went home on Friday, I thought I would see cartoons on TV, hear laughter, or something else. But when I got there, there was a heavy silence.
Lily, no. Jessica, no.
I searched every room in the house, my anxiety growing with each step.
No one.
I tried calling Jessica, my heart pounding. No answer. When I called again, I got voicemail.
It dawned on me then that something necessary was missing: Lily’s cherished pink purse. The one that she always had with her.
Additionally, its backpack has an AirTag.
With trembling palms, I opened the tracking app.
Her location showed up:
The airport.
I felt a chill run through me.
I grabbed my keys and ran outside, frantically checking my app.
It’s the same at the airport.
What was happening?
I hurried through the terminal as soon as I got there, looking at everyone. Then I became aware of it.
It’s a pink backpack.
Lily. Jessica.
But they weren’t by themselves.
“What are you working on?” I shouted.
Suddenly, what had started off as a normal weekday turned into a nightmare.
As soon as I stepped through the front door, I was struck by an odd, unnatural silence.
When I saw that neither our trustworthy, long-time babysitter Jessica nor my five-year-old daughter Lily were there, my heart stopped.
The house was devoid of clues. No note, no hastily scrawled message. Nothing. The terrible silence only added to the unsettling emptiness.
Then, to my surprise, I saw that Lily’s cherished pink purse was gone.
I had secretly slipped an AirTag into that knapsack a few months before, driven by maternal instinct, so I felt a glimmer of optimism after a brief moment of concern.
With shaking hands, I took out my phone and opened the tracking app.
The signal came from the airport.
Without hesitation, I grabbed my keys and got into the car.
Every red light seemed to linger forever, so I drove as fast as I could while my mind raced with dread and adrenaline.
When I got there, I frantically scanned the terminal. After that, I saw them.
Jessica. My little one, Lily.
They were joined by my ex-husband Daniel and his overbearing mother, Brenda.
They were ready to board and leave with my child without telling me.
As I ran toward them, a surge of emotion swept over me.
As usual, Brenda tried to calm me down by explaining that they were “just taking Lily to the seaside” so she could breathe and recover.
Jessica looked completely taken aback; she genuinely believed that I was aware of the trip and would accompany them.
Reality hit me like a freight train: this trip had been planned behind my back, and Jessica had been kept in the dark.
There was more to this than a straightforward misunderstanding. An important choice was taken without consulting me.
Security at the airport immediately intervened after noticing the tension.
Around us, people paused in awe of our sight.
Daniel backed off in silence, obviously uncomfortable. Eventually, Brenda caved in to the obvious.
I clasped Lily in my arms and felt a wave of relief.
Jessica apologized really and gave me a truly ashamed face. Clearly, she had been tricked too.
I told her that we would talk about it later since I was too overwhelmed to say anything else.
But one thing was certain:
They thought they could make such a significant decision without my assistance.
They will quickly learn their error.
