A strange, indescribable feeling stirred in Jonathan Quintero's chest as the car slowly pulled up to the hotel entrance.
Without saying a word, he stepped out first, his tall figure outlined by the soft glow of the lobby lights.
Behind him, Lauren followed, holding little Liam's tiny hand, her steps light but filled with tension.
Jonathan, of course, was staying in the hotel's presidential suite. The moment they entered, Liam's big round eyes sparkled with wonder.
Everything in the luxurious room, from the grand chandelier to the enormous 70-inch television, seemed like something out of a dream.
But the excitement didn't last long.
The little boy, who had missed his nap earlier because he was too thrilled about riding the train, began to grow drowsy.
Before long, his eyelids fluttered shut, and he drifted off to sleep.
Lauren looked down at her sleeping son, her gaze softening.
