The rain was pouring down in thick, relentless sheets, pounding the rooftops of the small seaside town like a war drum. Thunder cracked across the sky, and lightning tore jagged lines of light through the dark clouds. Inside the crowded train station, twelve-year-old Liam clung tightly to his mother's hand.
"We'll be safe on the train, sweetheart," she said, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead.
He nodded, trying to be brave, even as his stomach twisted with nervousness. They were supposed to visit his grandmother in the countryside, far away from the city. It was supposed to be a peaceful trip, a break from the noise, the bustle, the problems. But now, everything felt uncertain.
The station was a mess of shouting voices, flashing lights, and anxious faces. Loudspeakers crackled overhead: "All passengers, please be advised… train delays are expected due to the severe weather…"
Liam blinked back tears as the crowd surged around them. One moment, he was looking up at his mother's worried face; the next, he was spinning, stumbling—her hand slipping from his.
"Mom!" he shouted, panic rising like a tidal wave. "Mom!"
But his voice was swallowed by the storm and the shouts of other frightened people. He pushed through the crowd, searching desperately, but she was gone.
Liam's heart pounded. He tried to think. His mom had told him what to do if they ever got separated—go to the help desk, stay in one place—but right now, everything she'd ever told him seemed jumbled and useless in the chaos.
For hours, he waited at the information booth. He told the workers his name, his mom's name, where they were going. But there were no announcements. No one came looking for him. Night fell, and the station slowly emptied. A worker gave him a blanket and told him to sleep on one of the benches.
The storm raged outside.
That night, Liam cried himself to sleep, whispering his mother's name like a prayer.