The Forgotten Daughter, One Last Time Chapter 02

The Forgotten Daughter, One Last Time Chapter 02

The door creaked open, and my chest tightened all at once. She had come back.

But it wasn’t Mom. It was a woman I’d never seen before, bundled up in a puffer jacket. Hope drained out of me so fast it almost felt physical, and I felt my mouth twist into something that wasn’t even close to a smile.

Of course it wasn’t her.

The woman stopped short when she saw me — a kid, alone, huddled in a highway restroom.

Her eyes swept over me — my red cheeks, my thin coat — and her voice went soft.

“Sweetheart, are you here by yourself? Where are your mom and dad?”

The words “mom” and “dad” hit something raw. My throat closed up and I had to force the words out, my voice cracking.

“My parents — they left without me. Can I please use your phone to call them?”

Something in her expression shifted — pity, probably — and she pulled her phone out without hesitation.

“Here, use mine,” she said. “You’ll freeze out here.”

I took the phone, but my fingers were so stiff I kept hitting the wrong numbers.

When I finally got the number right, I took a breath and hit send.

The phone rang — each tone stretching on forever, winding me tighter with every second.

No one picked up. It went to voicemail, and the phone shook in my hand.

The woman touched my shoulder. “Don’t worry, honey. It could just be bad reception. Try again.”

I nodded, tapped redial, and pressed the phone hard against my ear — as if holding it close enough could make someone answer.

Each ring dragged. I couldn’t keep my breathing steady.

On the seventh ring, someone picked up. Mom’s voice came through — distant, half-lost under road noise and the stereo.

“Hello?”

Something inside me broke open the second I heard her voice. Every word I needed jammed in my throat.

“Mom,” I managed, my voice raw. “I’m not in the car. You left me at the rest stop.”

She didn’t hesitate. The impatience in her voice was instant.

“That’s impossible. I did a headcount before we pulled out.”

“Olivia and Leo both said we were good to go. We didn’t just leave you.”

A brief silence. I could picture her turning around to check the backseat.

Those seconds hurt worse than the cold. I kept waiting for the panic to hit her — the guilt, the rush of realization.

Instead, her voice went sharp. “Why did you wander off without telling anyone? Why didn’t you say something?”

“You wait until we’re miles down the road and then you call? Honestly, Chloe.”

Each word landed like a slap. I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, swallowing down the sob building in my throat.

“I was running after you,” I said, unable to keep my voice from shaking. “I was screaming. You didn’t hear me.”

She went quiet — but only for a second. Then she went right back on the offensive.

“That’s because you were too slow! I told you to hurry up and you just kept dragging your feet.”

“We’ve already passed the toll plaza. There’s nowhere to turn around on the interstate — what do you expect us to do?”

Then Olivia chimed in from the backseat, her voice loud and annoyed. “She’s the one who took forever. Don’t blame us.”

“I literally told her to hurry up and she wouldn’t listen. Now look what happened.”

My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles went white. The unfairness of it lodged in my chest like a stone.

Olivia was the one who’d cut in front of me, the reason I got stuck waiting in the first place. And now she was blaming me for falling behind.

Then Leo piped up, whiny and loud, oblivious to everything but himself.

“Mom, Dad, I don’t wanna go back! I want to open my presents!”

I was about to lose it when Dad’s voice cut through the noise — low, flat, sounding like he was just managing a logistical issue.

“Alright, enough. Your uncle’s headed to Grandma’s too — he’s taking the same route.”

“Wait inside the building. He’ll pick you up when he gets there.”

“But Dad, I don’t even know what his car looks like,” I said. “When is he getting here—”

The line clicked dead before I could finish. He’d already hung up.