Fostered by their teacher

Chapter 14

*Trigger warning mentions of ambulance and death*

Y/N's POV

The morning feels like a blur. I drop Mason and Lincon off at their school just before 8:35. They wave as they rush toward the entrance, their backpacks bouncing as they run. I glance at the clock on the dashboard—8:37. Not much time. I shift into drive and head toward the triplets' preschool, just a few minutes away.

By the time I pull up at the preschool, it's 8:39. I hurry out of the car and open the back doors. Trey hops out first, talking about something I can't quite follow, while Harper and Taylor hold hands, both looking sleepy.

"C'mon, let's go," I say, herding them toward the entrance. I give them each a quick hug at the door and remind them to be good.

"Can we go home after?" Taylor asks, her little hand gripping mine.

"Not yet, Tay. I'll pick you up later, okay?"

She hesitates before nodding, and I watch them shuffle inside, Harper still holding Taylor's hand. Once they're safely inside, I get back into the car, my mind already racing to the next task.

I still have some time before my own school starts at 9:15, so I head back home to grab my lunch and check on Dad.

As soon as I walk into the house, it feels too quiet. I head to the kitchen, pack a quick sandwich, and grab a water bottle. I'm about to head out the door when a strange feeling tugs at me. I haven't checked on Dad yet.

I move toward the living room, my stomach knotting. Dad usually starts waking up by now. I push the door open and freeze. He's still in the chair by the window, but something looks... wrong.

"Dad?" I say softly, stepping closer. He doesn't respond. I move quickly to his side, my heart pounding. His face is pale, and his breathing is shallow, almost nonexistent. "Dad!" I shake him gently, but nothing. Panic surges through me.

Grabbing my phone, I frantically dial triple 000.

"Emergency, which service do you require?"

"My dad... I think he's... he's not breathing right. He's unresponsive, please help!" My voice cracks, my hands shaking.

"Stay calm, is he responsive at all?" the operator asks, her voice steady.

"No, no, he's not. Please hurry," I say, crouching down beside him. My hands are cold, and I feel like I'm spinning.

Mrs. Lewis's POV

It was just after 9:00 when I got the call from Y/N. I could barely make out what she was saying at first—her voice was shaking, and she was trying hard to keep it together. I immediately grabbed my car keys and rushed out the door. Y/N sounded like she was in complete panic, and I knew something serious had happened.

As I drove toward their house, I kept glancing at the clock, trying not to let my own anxiety take over. I've been helping out with the kids for a while now, ever since the accident. It's been hard on all of them, but Y/N especially. She's had to take on more responsibility than any 16-year-old should have to. My heart aches for her, having to carry the weight of everything while also trying to be a normal teenager.

When I finally pull up to the house, I see the ambulance parked outside. My heart sinks. I rush up the steps, barely catching my breath as I knock on the door and let myself in.

Y/N is in the hallway, pacing back and forth. Her face is pale, her hands shaking as she tries to keep calm. The paramedics are inside, working on her father, Stan.

"Y/N, sweetheart," I say softly, coming up to her. She turns to me, her eyes wide and filled with fear.

"They—they don't know what's wrong. He wasn't breathing properly when I found him," she says, her voice cracking. I pull her into a hug, feeling her whole body trembling.