### Chapter Nineteen: The Waiting Game
The rain didn't let up the next morning, drumming a relentless beat against the patched roof. Syan woke to the sound, his body stiff from the damp chill seeping through the walls. Lila was already up, her footsteps pacing the small kitchen as she rattled pots—more out of restlessness than purpose. The house felt heavy, the air thick with unspoken questions neither of them wanted to voice.
"They said they'd be here," Lila muttered, slamming a cupboard shut. "Both of them. Where are they?"
"Give it time," Syan said, though his own patience was fraying. "It's early. Roads might be bad."
She huffed, dropping into the chair beside him with a thud. "Or they're bailing. Again."
He didn't argue—couldn't, not when the same thought gnawed at him. His mother's fever, his father's strained promises—it was too easy to imagine them retreating, the way they had four years ago. But he clung to the small proofs they'd given: the ramp, the soup, the wheelchair humming smoothly under him now. "If they don't show," he said, "we'll know. But let's wait."
Waiting stretched the hours thin. Lila tried to read from the dragon book, but her voice faltered, the words losing their magic. Syan counted the raindrops instead, a rhythm to anchor him against the growing dread. By noon, the silence outside was louder than the storm—no van, no footsteps, no sign.
"They're not coming," Lila said finally, her voice flat, defeated. She stood, pacing again, her sneakers scuffing the floor. "I knew it. I shouldn't have—"
The rumble of an engine cut her off, faint at first, then louder as it rolled up to the house. Lila froze, her breath catching, and Syan tilted his head, straining to hear. The van door slammed, followed by two sets of footsteps—his father's heavy tread and a lighter, unsteady one.
The door creaked open, and his mother's voice came first, weak but there. "Sorry we're late," she said, coughing faintly. "Roads were a mess, and I… I'm still shaky."
"You're here," Lila said, her tone caught between relief and suspicion.
"Yeah," his father said, gruff as ever. "Told you we would be. She insisted—fever's down, but she's stubborn."
Syan felt the tension in his chest ease, just a fraction. His mother stepped closer, her coat dripping as she sank into the armchair. "Missed you both," she said, her voice raspy but warm. "Didn't want to let you down again."
Lila didn't reply, but she moved to the kitchen, returning with a mug of hot water she'd boiled. "It's not much," she said, handing it to her mother. "But it'll help."
"Thanks, Lila," she said, a smile in her words.
His father set a bag on the table—more groceries, a bottle of cough syrup. "We're staying a bit," he said. "Make sure you're set."
They did, lingering through the afternoon, their presence a quiet rebuttal to the doubt that had nearly won. Syan listened as Lila softened, her questions turning to small talk, the fracture mending one cautious word at a time. The waiting had tested them, but they'd passed—for now.
---
Let me know if you'd like Chapter 20 or any changes here!