He probably didn't expect to find a little boy sitting alone in such a remote rest stop restroom.

He looked me over from head to toe, then asked gently, "Hey, kid, are you here by yourself? Where are your parents?"

At the word "parents", my nose tingled. I fought back the tears welling in my eyes and rasped, "Sir, my mom and dad left me here. Can I borrow your phone to call them?"

At my words, a look of concern crossed his face. He quickly pulled out his phone from his pocket and handed it to me, urging, "Go on, call them quick. It's so cold out here, so don't freeze yourself."

I took the phone. Since my fingers were stiff from the cold, I fumbled over the buttons and misdialed several times. At last, I got the home number right, drew in a sharp breath, and hit the dial button.

The busy signal pulsed in my ear, sending waves of anxious hope through me. When it ended, there was still no answer.

My hand holding the phone trembled slightly, and the small thread of hope inside me grew colder.

The man watched me quietly and said, "Don't worry. Maybe the signal's bad. Try again."

I nodded and hit the redial button once more. I pressed the phone to my ear and prayed that this time, I would hear my parents' voices.

The waiting tone dragged on endlessly, and my breathing rose and fell in time with it.

On the seventh beep, someone finally answered. My mother's voice came through, muffled by the wind and music from the car, "Hello?"

All the fear and hurt I had held back now choked my throat. My voice came out hoarse and shaky. "Mom, I didn't get in the car. You forgot me at the rest stop."

Before I could get another word out, Mom's impatient voice came crashing over me. "No way! I made sure everyone was good to go before we left. Your brother and sister confirmed it. How could we have left you behind?"

A brief silence followed on the other end of the line. I imagined Mom glancing back at the seats. Those few seconds of quiet cut deeper than the cold wind ever could. I had expected fear, guilt, or any hint that she realized her mistake, yet what came instead was a cutting reprimand.

"Why didn't you say something earlier? Didn't you think to shout for us? Why wait until the car is already gone to call and cause trouble?"

Her cold words pierced the last thread of hope I had.

I bit my lip hard, forcing back the tears threatening to spill. Still, my voice quivered despite myself. "I did! I ran and shouted, but you didn't hear me. The car just turned and drove away."

My protest seemed to catch Mom off guard. The silence was brief before she found another reason to scold me. "That's just because you were slow! We told you to hurry, and you dawdled.

"We've passed the toll station now. We can't just turn around on the highway. How are we supposed to pick you up?"

Then, Joe's teasing and indifferent voice came through the line, "Well, whose fault is it that he's slow? I even tried to hurry him, but he dragged his feet. Serves him right."

I clenched the phone until my knuckles went white, feeling both anger and hurt overwhelm me. Joe had stolen my spot in line, leaving me to start again, and now he was shifting the blame onto me.

Lyra's childish yet sharp voice came next, dripping with spoiled insistence. "Mom, Dad, I don't want to go back! I want to rush to Grandma's and eat a drumstick!"

Just as I was about to burst into tears, Dad's deep voice came through the phone.

There was no warmth in it, only a detached sense of order. "Enough. Stop making a fuss. Your uncle is driving back to Grandma's house today, and he's taking the same route as us. Stay at that rest stop, and don't wander off. When he gets there, ride back with him."

"But Dad, I don't remember Uncle Ben's car. When are they—"

Before I could finish, all I heard in the receiver was the cold, busy signal.

I stood there, holding the phone.

Finally, the tears I had been holding back fell, splashing onto the icy phone screen.

The man beside me watched quietly and gently patted my shoulder. He sighed and said, "Don't be sad, kid. How about you come with me for now? You can call your parents from my place. Once you get off the highway, it won't be far. Otherwise, I could drive you a bit, but it's not exactly on my way."

I thought of my parents' impatient tone and shook my head, refusing the offer. "No, thank you, sir. My parents told me that my uncle will be here soon. I'll wait for him right here."

It was the holidays, and I knew they wouldn't want to turn back to pick me up again. My uncle, Ben Thompson, wasn't close to me normally, and asking him to go out of his way would definitely annoy him.

The man looked like he had more to say, but his phone buzzed in his pocket, likely someone reminding him to hurry.

He gave me a worried look, handed me a few neatly wrapped chocolates from his pocket, and went back to the car to grab a small beige blanket, which he wrapped around my shoulders.

"This should help keep you warm. Eat a bit of chocolate so you don't get too hungry. If no one shows up soon, find someone else to borrow a phone from, but don't wander off."

I nodded and choked out, "Thank you, sir."

He disappeared quickly through the doorway, leaving the rest stop empty and silent again. The cold wind still seeped in.

My stomach rumbled. I unwrapped a piece of chocolate and bit off a tiny piece. I didn't want to eat it all at once, so I carefully folded the rest and put it in my pocket, thinking I could rely on it if the wait dragged on.

I pulled the blanket tighter around me and hugged my clothes closer. Beneath it, I was wearing Joe's old sweater from last year. The collar was loose and worn, and the sleeves were fraying.

Joe had outgrown it, and Mom said I could wear it. Joe himself wore a new gray suit this year with a blue bow tie, looking like a little prince. Lyra's pink down jacket was brand new too, making her look like a little princess.

And me? I wore Joe's hand-me-downs, looking like a dull, gray shadow.

Fearing that Uncle Ben could pass by without seeing me, I clenched my teeth and stepped out of the restroom, bracing myself against the biting wind. The streetlights flickered dimmer, and the sky was growing darker.

Far off, the sky turned deep gray, and a few snowflakes began to fall, melting instantly on my hair and shoulders into cold little patches of water.

I stared toward the road where the car would come, stamping my numb feet and rubbing my frozen hands inside the blanket, silently praying that Uncle Ben would arrive soon.

As one car after another sped past, their headlights blinded me, yet not a single one stopped at the rest stop.

The snow grew heavier, piling a thin layer on the blanket. I wrapped it tighter around myself. The chocolate's sweetness had long faded, leaving only anxiety and cold.

I had no idea how long I would have to wait or if Uncle Ben would even remember to come. I just felt the subzero wind stiffening my whole body in the empty rest stop.

Time stretched endlessly in the cold and hunger. Under the streetlight, my hands and feet had long lost sensation, leaving only a bone-deep numbness.

At first, I shivered from the cold, but now, I barely had the strength to even shake. A strange, suffocating ache spread through me. My head throbbed under a crushing pressure, and I couldn't even lift it.

My heart slammed against my chest, making it hard to draw a full breath. My stomach twisted with emptiness, aching painfully. Was I just too hungry?

With trembling hands, I grabbed the half-eaten chocolate and forced it into my mouth in one desperate bite. The sickly sweet taste barely calmed my racing heart, and the weight and dizziness in my head only intensified.

A sharper cold than the wind before ran through me, seeping into my very bones. I wrapped the small blanket tighter around me, but any warmth it offered felt drained away by some invisible force, impossible to hold onto.

Just as I felt myself about to collapse, a black car slowly approached the rest stop entrance. It was like a lifeline in the storm. I summoned every ounce of strength and shuffled forward, staring at the driver as he lowered the window.

It was a stranger.

"Sir, can I borrow your phone? I feel awful…"

My voice was so weak I could barely hear it myself.

The man froze for a moment, then quickly pulled out his phone and handed it to me. "Hey, kid, what's wrong? You look awful."

I didn't have the energy to explain. My fingers stiffened as I pressed Dad's number.

This time, the call went through almost immediately.

"Dad…" My voice broke into a sob, shaking so badly it barely formed words. "When is Uncle Ben coming? I feel awful. My head is spinning, and my heart is racing. Am I sick?"

On the other end, Dad's voice carried impatience. "What now? Didn't I tell you to wait? Your uncle left a while ago. There's some traffic, but he'll be here soon! Can't you wait a second? You dawdled and didn't get in the car, and now you're not feeling good?"

"It's not that, Dad. I really don't feel well…"

My protest sounded feeble even to myself.

"Enough! Stop making trouble and wait quietly! It's the holiday, and you're causing nothing but chaos!"

The line went dead again. The busy signal pricked my ears like ice.

I tried to tell them I couldn't hold on any longer, but the line had already gone dead. I stood there, clutching the phone, forgetting entirely to return it to the stranger beside me.

He took it back and gently said, "Don't worry. Your family should be here soon. Do you want to get into my car to warm up?"

I shook my head, fearing that Uncle Ben might lose track of me if I moved. I could only whisper, "Thank you, sir," and slowly make my way back to where I had been standing.

I lost track of time as the shivering slowly subsided and my heart began to slow. Still, I felt no comfort. My hands and feet felt stiff and completely uncooperative.

I tried to march in place to get warm, but even lifting my legs felt like wading through molasses.

The sky had fallen into complete darkness. I stared blankly at the rest stop entrance. However, everything in front of me grew fuzzy, and my thoughts started to unravel.

Clenching my teeth, I inched along the edge of the buildings. Every breath was labored, as if my throat were being squeezed and a heavy weight pressed down on my chest.

I opened my mouth, trying desperately to suck in more air, but each breath came short and shallow. My vision blurred further, and the streetlights haloed into dancing spots of light in my eyes.

My knees gave out, and I collapsed weakly onto the icy ground. The blanket had slid halfway off, and I couldn't muster the energy to pull it back.

I was exhausted. My eyelids were too heavy to lift, and my consciousness felt like it was sinking, dragging me down.

Through the haze, I thought I saw my parents running toward me, with worry written across their faces.

Before I fully closed my eyes, I thought how wonderful it was that they had finally come for me.