Left in the Flooded Kindergarten for His Childhood Sweetheart Chapter 03

Left in the Flooded Kindergarten for His Childhood Sweetheart Chapter 03

I gripped my phone tight, keeping my temper in check. “Tristan, my parents get to the station at five twenty. Don’t forget to pick them up.”

He must’ve picked up the edge in my voice; his tone softened a little. “I know, I’ll definitely be there. I won’t slip up this time. I promise.”

He sounded utterly sincere. Once upon a time, I would’ve believed every word. Now, I only gave a flat, quiet “okay.”

That afternoon, Anna’s fever stabilized enough that she could rest in the hospital observation ward. I couldn’t skip a critical work meeting, so I headed back to the office.

The meeting ran until seven p.m. I unlocked my phone and saw a flood of messages from my mom dating back hours.

5:20 PM

[Nina, we just got off the train. Is Tristan here yet?]

5:50 PM

[Don’t worry about us—there are benches here to sit on. Your dad and I are fine waiting.]

6:20 PM

[Is Tristan stuck in traffic?]

6:40 PM

[Take your time at work; we’re not in any rush.]

My dad sent a photo attached to the last text.

He and my mom sat on hard plastic benches right outside the station exit. A woven canvas sack sat at my mom’s feet, stuffed full of homegrown eggs, dried figs she’d preserved, and homemade pickled vegetables she’d jarred.

My dad draped an old flannel coat over his knees—he’d injured his leg falling at a construction site decades ago, and damp rainy weather always left him aching fiercely.

New York hadn’t stopped pouring rain all day. They’d sat exposed to the foot traffic and cold damp for over two hours.

I dialed Tristan six times in a row. Every single call went straight to voicemail.

I couldn’t stay seated another minute. I rushed to my supervisor’s desk to beg an emergency leave and bolted out of the office.

Ubers were backed up on the highway, gridlocked for miles. Rain streaked thick down the car windows, and I stared at the deep-red traffic map, my palms slick with nervous sweat.

At eight fifty-five p.m., I finally pulled up to the station.

My mom stood the second she spotted me. “Nina!”

Her lips were pale blue from the cold, yet she forced a bright smile for me first. “Where’s Tristan? He said he’d come pick us up.”

My dad pushed himself upright, gripping his bad knee to hide how much it ached. “Your mother and I got a nice rest sitting here—we’re not tired at all.”

I glanced at the overstuffed sack at their feet, and my eyes burned with fresh tears. “Mom, Dad… I’m so sorry.”

My mom grabbed my hand instantly. “Silly girl, no need to apologize. You’ve got a million work responsibilities, and we could’ve found our own way if we needed to.”

I swallowed hard and bent to lift the heavy sack myself. My dad reached out to take it from me. “Let me carry that—your arms are too thin for all this weight.”

I refused to let go. “I’ve got it.”

We left the station, headed back to the hospital to check on Anna, then drove home. It was almost ten p.m. by the time we unlocked our front door.

Anna leaned against my mom’s chest, fast asleep. Her fever had broken, but she was still weak and drained—yet she’d mustered a tiny smile the second she spotted her grandparents. “Grammy.”

My mom’s eyes watered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’m right here, baby girl. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

On the drive home, Tristan finally returned my calls. I didn’t pick up. He sent a string of texts instead.

[My phone was on silent, I never saw your calls.]

[Kylie had a pipe burst flooding her apartment downstairs. I stayed to help her fix the damage.]

[Did you get your parents safely?]