The airport was bustling with announcements, suitcases, and people in a hurry. Bradley Cooper walked with his son's hand firmly in his own. Passersby recognized him and asked for photos, and he politely nodded, but his focus was on his son.

Bradley was not only an actor and director, but also a father who was experiencing a moment that was more important than any Oscar.

"When you see your mother," he began, leaning closer to his son.

"I'm standing perfectly still," Leo replied clearly, his chin held high.

"Good job," Bradley said. But Leo was already scanning the crowd, as if searching for something familiar.

After a moment, his gaze became anxious.

"Dad... how will I know which one is my mother?"

Bradley froze. A slight fluttering sensation echoed in his chest. He placed his hand on his son's shoulder and spoke softly.

"You'll recognize her." She walks like she's dancing. And when he speaks, it's like he's telling a fairy tale, even if he just says "hello." And when she laughs... it's like hearing music for the first time.

They went forward again, making their way through the stream of people. Bradley couldn't remember the exit number—he was too worried. They'll be together again.

And suddenly Leo pulled his father's sleeve:

— Dad. I think... it's her.

Bradley looked where his son was pointing. Emma was standing by the window, peering out into the crowd, as if she could sense: They're nearby. She hadn't seen them yet, but she was already smiling, the smile he'd never forgotten.

"There you go, champ,— Bradley said, a smile trembling in his voice. "You found her."