Chapter 2Left Behind At The Gate

My mother gasped, terrified. "Iris, don't say such foolish things. Your father and I are perfectly fine on the train. Don't ruin your own happiness over this."

I couldn't listen anymore. I hung up, turned around, and began walking toward the exit of the terminal.

Wayne grabbed my arm, his grip tight. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To get my parents."

His face darkened, his jaw tightening. "We're boarding in twenty minutes. If you leave now, what happens to the wedding?"

I looked at him, seeing the stranger behind the familiar face. "My parents aren't going to be there, Wayne. What wedding is there to have?"

Nearby, Phoebe’s mother cleared her throat with a delicate cough.

Wayne’s grip on my arm instantly vanished. He turned around, sliding his designer jacket off his shoulders and draping it gently over Mrs. Ward's shoulders. "Mrs. Ward, is the airport AC too cold for you?"

His movements were practiced, tender, and deeply attentive.

I stood there, watching him. I didn't even feel like arguing anymore.

He knew exactly how to care for older people. He knew what it meant to protect them from discomfort.

It was just that his tenderness was a luxury my parents were never entitled to.

Wayne turned back to me, his tone returning to that familiar, cold impatience. "Iris, stop making a scene. I already told you, your parents are being taken care of."

I pulled my arm back, out of his reach.

A thirty-hour journey in coach.

A grueling transfer route of buses and ferries.

And my parents, swallowing their own pain and dignity just to save face for him.

That was his version of taking care of them.

Just as I reached the automatic doors of the airport, my phone rang again. It was my mother. This time, her voice was entirely stripped of its forced cheer. She sounded panicked, on the verge of tears.

"Iris... we can't take the train."

My heart dropped. "What do you mean you can't take the train?"

The background noise was chaotic, punctured by the loud, impatient voice of an Amtrak conductor.

My mother lowered her voice, whispering as if she were committing a crime. "They said the tickets are wrong. They're dated for yesterday. They won't let us board. We've... we've been asked to leave the station."

My head went entirely numb.

Wayne said he had arranged everything.

His grand arrangement was buying my parents expired coach tickets.

I clutched the phone. "Mom, where are you right now?"

"Iris, please don't be mad at Wayne," she begged, her first instinct still to protect the man who had abandoned her. "He had so many people to coordinate. It was just a simple mistake. It's completely normal."

My father’s raspy, suppressed cough echoed through the line. "We'll just wait in the terminal for a bit. It's fine. Don't let this ruin your flight."

They had been kicked off a train. They were standing in a noisy, unfamiliar station, surrounded by luggage, and they were still trying to find excuses for Wayne.

My eyes burned with hot, angry tears. I spun around and marched back to Wayne.

"Did you buy my parents tickets for yesterday?"

Wayne blinked, his expression shifting slightly. "What?"

I shoved the phone toward his face. "They were kicked off the train. Is this what you call 'taking care of things'?"

Wayne finally frowned. For the first time, a flicker of genuine worry crossed his face, as if he realized this was turning into an actual inconvenience.

"My assistant must have made a mistake when booking," he murmured, pulling out his own phone. "Don't panic. I'll have my assistant go pick them up from the station. We won't fly today. We'll rebook for tomorrow and all go together."

He spoke quickly, his tone softening in an attempt to pacify me. To him, this was just a minor administrative error.

But I looked at him and felt my heart turn to ash.

If I hadn't fought him on this, if my mother hadn't called, my parents would have spent the night stranded at a cold, foreign train station, holding their bags, waiting for a train that would never carry them.