The Forgotten Daughter, One Last Time Chapter 06

The Forgotten Daughter, One Last Time Chapter 06

“Ken should’ve picked her up by now, shouldn’t he? Honestly, you two — how do you leave a child behind at a rest stop?” Grandma asked.

Mom smacked a hand to her forehead. “Oh God, I totally forgot about Chloe.”

Dad waved it off. “She’s fine. Ken’s picked her up by now.”

“Besides, it’s her own fault for falling behind. If she’d kept up, this wouldn’t have happened.”

That’s not true, Dad. I wasn’t slow. I screamed it — but the words vanished into nothing.

Mom winced, a flash of guilt crossing her face. “I’ll make it up to her — I’ll get her something extra nice tomorrow.”

Something twisted deep in my chest. Last year, Olivia brought home straight A’s and got the biggest pile of presents.

The year before that, Leo had been sick, so they spoiled him to make up for it. I was the only one who never got to be the priority.

And now it was finally supposed to be my turn — and I’d never get to open a single thing. I was a ghost now.

The front door swung open. Ken’s family piled in, arms full of bags, calling out “Merry Christmas” with bright smiles.

Mom rushed over. “Ken! Hey — where’s Chloe?”

Ken stopped mid-step. “Chloe? Didn’t you guys go back for her?”

“There was no one there when I got to the rest stop. I figured you’d already picked her up,” Ken said.

The whole room went still. Dad stood up. “Go back? We agreed you’d get her. Why would we go back?”

“I thought you would’ve gone back,” Ken said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I mean — most parents would’ve turned around the second they realized. How was I supposed to know you hadn’t?”

Mom’s voice shook. “If you didn’t see her, why didn’t you get out and look?”

“The place was huge, and it was pitch-black,” Ken shot back. “What was I supposed to do, search the whole place on foot?”

“I looked around — didn’t see anyone. So I figured she was already with you, and I kept driving.”

Because I was under the snow by then. He’d driven right past me.

That was when the panic finally hit. Mom’s voice cracked. “Then where is she? Oh my god, where could she be?”

Ken shrugged. “She’s a kid — how far could she have gotten? She probably talked someone into dropping her at a diner or something, and she’s just not answering because she wants to make you sweat.”

No! I was right there, right in front of them, screaming it — and not a single sound came out.

Dad’s face went white. He pulled out his phone and called back the two numbers from my earlier calls.

The woman who’d lent me her phone picked up first. Dad put the call on speaker.

“Yeah, she borrowed my phone, but she said her uncle was on his way so I left. Wait — she’s not with you?”

The man was next. “She used my phone to make a call, and then she went back to waiting at the rest stop,” he said.

“I told her to sit in my car and warm up, but she wouldn’t. You mean no one’s come for her yet?”

The room was silent after the second call. Mom pressed a hand over her mouth, tears spilling down her face. “Where is she? Oh my god, where is she?”

Leo piped up. “She’s probably just hiding because she’s mad at us!”

Dad’s jaw clenched. “Unbelievable. When we find her, she’s going to be in serious trouble.”

No! That’s not what happened! I threw myself in front of them, screaming, and not one of them flinched. I was nothing. Just air.

Ken shrugged. “Look, there’s nothing we can do right now. Let’s eat — I’ve been driving all day and I’m starving.”

“It’s Christmas. She’ll show up or she’ll call. She’s probably sitting in a 24-hour place right now, pouting. We’ll call the highway patrol after we eat,” Ken said.

Grandma waved them toward the table. “Come on, let’s eat before everything gets cold.”

They settled back around the table. The mood was uneasy at first, but it didn’t take long for that to pass — the TV was loud, the food was hot, and the worry melted into the background.

Dad poured Ken a glass of wine. Mom passed dishes to my aunt. Olivia and her cousin gossiped about school while Leo and his cousin wrestled over the biggest turkey leg.

The table was filled end to end — roast turkey, creamy mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, everything. A feast.

They clinked glasses and wished each other Merry Christmas. The smiles came back, easy and warm, as if a missing child was just a brief disruption to the evening.

I hovered at the edge of the table and watched them eat. My body was still out there, under the snow, and they were having Christmas dinner.

It was easier for them to believe I was throwing a tantrum than to face what they’d actually done. So that was what they chose to believe.