I didn't know how to answer them.
For a moment, I simply looked at the children gathered around me, their small faces upturned with desperate hope. Their eyes were wide, their bodies trembling with anticipation. They had been through so much, endured so much, and yet they still believed that being "good" would earn them the love they deserved. The weight of their expectations pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating.
Before they could be reunited with their families, they all needed medical examinations. Almost every child had mentioned that something hurt. Some complained about their hands, others their stomachs or legs. They were all painfully thin, their little bodies showing clear signs of malnutrition. Their clothes hung loosely on their frames, and their skin had a pallor that spoke of months, maybe years, of neglect.
I took a slow breath, steadying myself.
"You can go see your parents," I said gently, my voice soft but certain.
