Chapter 18 | 8 Days
1640 Words
Dante's POV
_8 days. 8 chances to prove love is real._
The countdown started.
Atty. Mara filed the motion.
`Motion to Dismiss Custody Modification`
`Grounds: No evidence of instability. Evidence of stability.`
Liza’s lawyer replied.
`Opposition. Cohabitation. Public exposure. Financial risk.`
War.
War with paper.
War with words.
War for Mimi.
I was in the kitchen.
Pancakes.
Again.
The pan hissed.
Butter melted.
My hands moved on their own.
Mimi sat on the counter.
Legs swinging.
Hair in a messy bun.
Cassie’s old scrunchie.
“Daddy, why is Lola mad?”
“Because she’s scared,” I said.
“Of what?”
“Of losing you,” I said.
Mimi frowned.
Her little eyebrows pulled together.
“But she already did.”
She said it so simply.
Like it was fact.
Like it was math.
The knife slipped.
I almost cut myself.
My chest felt tight.
Because she was right.
Liza left 3 years ago.
And now she wanted to come back?
When it was convenient?
“Cassie?”
I didn’t call her.
She was there.
Leaning on the doorframe.
Watching me.
“Dante?”
“I’m fine,” I said.
She didn’t believe me.
I could see it in her eyes.
---
We went to the school.
Mimi skipped between us.
One hand in mine.
One hand in Cassie’s.
Like it was normal.
Like it had always been this way.
Ma’am Rosa’s classroom smelled like crayons and glue.
“Mr. Morales,” she said.
“Ms. Torres.”
“Ma’am,” I said.
My voice was rough.
“Is Mimi okay?” she asked.
“She’s been drawing a lot.
Families.
Always three people.
Always holding hands.”
Cassie squeezed my hand.
“She’s okay,” Cassie said.
Her voice didn’t shake.
Mine would have.
Ma’am Rosa looked at me.
Really looked.
Like she was measuring me.
“Mr. Morales.
I’ll be your witness.
Mimi is happy here.
She eats.
She talks.
She smiles.
And she hasn’t missed a day since Ms. Torres started helping with drop-off.”
I nodded.
“Thank you,” I said.
The words felt small.
For how big it was.
Outside, Mimi ran to the swing.
Cassie and I watched her.
“Did we do the right thing?” Cassie asked.
“Coming here?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Because hiding didn’t work.”
---
At the hotel.
The kitchen was hot.
Steam.
Noise.
Orders yelling.
Head Chef saw me.
“Morales,” he said.
“You look tired.”
“Court,” I said.
Just that one word.
He nodded.
Like he understood everything.
“I’ll write a letter,” he said.
“‘Best father.
Best cook.
Stable employee.
Never late in 3 years.’”
“Thanks, Chef.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said.
“Fight.
For that kid.
She’s lucky to have you.”
I wanted to say _she’s lucky to have her too._
But I didn’t.
Not yet.
---
At home.
Papers.
Everywhere.
Bank statements spread on the floor.
Photos in piles.
Letters in a folder.
Cassie was typing.
Fast.
Her hair tied up.
Pen behind her ear.
“Chapter 18,” she said.
“Can you write?”
“I have to,” she said.
“Because 3,400 people are reading.
Waiting.
They’re donating.
They’re fighting with us.”
She was right.
Reads: 21,000.
Library: 1,100.
Donations: ₱18,900.
We had enough for Atty. Cruz.
And more.
More for filing fees.
More for copies.
More for the things I hadn’t thought of yet.
My phone rang.
Liza.
I almost didn’t answer.
“Hello.”
“Dante.”
Her voice.
Smooth.
Cold.
“Drop it,” she said.
“No.”
“Then I’ll take her,” she said.
“You can’t win.
I have money.
I have a house.
I have a husband.”
“Watch me,” I said.
Click.
The silence after was loud.
Cassie looked at me.
“Are you okay?”
“No,” I said.
“But I’m here.”
She nodded.
Like that was enough.
We cooked.
Adobo.
Mimi’s favorite.
Garlic.
Soy sauce.
Bay leaf.
The smell filled 4B.
Mimi ate 2 bowls.
Rice.
Adobo.
More rice.
“Daddy, Ate Cass, can we stay like this?”
She had rice on her cheek.
Cassie wiped it.
“Yes, anak,” Cassie said.
“Promise?”
“Promise,” I said.
The word felt heavy.
And light.
At the same time.
---
Mimi slept.
Curled up.
Thumb in her mouth.
She stopped doing that a year ago.
She started again this week.
Cassie and I sat on the floor.
Backs against the couch.
“8 days,” she said.
“8 days,” I said.
“Dante.”
“What?”
“I’m scared,” she said.
Her voice was small.
“Me too.”
“What if the judge doesn’t believe us?”
“Then we try again,” I said.
“But what if—”
“Cassie.”
“What?”
“We don’t think about that yet.”
She looked at me.
“Dante.”
“What?”
“Do you believe us?”
I thought about it.
About pancakes on a Sunday.
About the park bench.
About her asleep on my shoulder.
About Mimi between us at night.
About how 4B didn’t feel empty anymore.
“Yes,” I said.
“I believe us.”
She exhaled.
Like she’d been holding her breath.
“Good,” she said.
“Because I need you to.”
She wrote.
`Chapter 18 | 8 Days`
`The countdown started.`
`8 days.`
`8 nights.`
`8 chances to prove love is real.`
`Because paper is paper.`
`But Mimi is Mimi.`
`And Mimi chose us.`
She published.
1,210 words.
Comments came in fast.
`@protectmimi: 8 DAYS WE FIGHT`
`@teamtension: DANTE SAY SOMETHING`
`@single_dad_nextdoor: PLS HUG HER`
`@mimi_supremacy: I’M NOT CRYING YOU ARE`
I looked at Cassie.
She was asleep.
On the floor.
Laptop on her chest.
Dark circles under her eyes.
I picked her up.
She was light.
Lighter than the boxes of vegetables I carried at work.
Tired.
I put her on the bed.
Mimi was already there.
Curled in the middle.
I lay down.
1 foot away.
Cassie rolled over.
In her sleep.
Her hand found mine.
Fingers tangled with mine.
I didn’t move it.
I couldn’t.
---
I was still awake.
Staring at the ceiling.
Counting.
8 days.
If we lose, I lose them.
If we win, I keep them.
But what if winning means she leaves?
What if she only stayed for Mimi?
What if she gets tired of us?
Of the mess?
Of me?
Cassie mumbled,
“Dante.”
I froze.
“Dante, stay.”
She was asleep.
But she said it.
So I did.
I stayed.
Mimi woke up.
Rubbed her eyes.
Saw us.
Holding hands.
She smiled.
Big.
Toothy.
“Family didn’t break,” she said.
No, anak.
Not yet.
Not if I could help it.
My phone buzzed.
*Atty. Mara:* `Liza wants settlement. 50,000 pesos. You give up custody. She gives up claim.`
My blood went cold.
50,000.
That was 5 months of work.
That was Mimi’s school.
That was everything.
I showed Cassie.
She read it.
Her jaw tightened.
“No,” she said.
“What?”
“No,” she said again.
Louder.
“Mimi is not for sale.”
“Dante—”
“No,” she said.
“We fight.”
I looked at her.
Tired.
Angry.
Brave.
The bravest person I knew.
“Okay,” I said.
I replied to Atty. Mara.
`Tell her no.
We see her in court.`
Send.
Donations hit ₱22,000.
A comment:
`@mimi_lolo: From a lolo in Cebu. For Mimi’s lawyer. Fight.`
I cried.
In the kitchen.
Silent.
Shoulders shaking.
Because 3 years ago I cried alone.
Now I wasn’t.
Cassie saw.
She didn’t say anything.
She just hugged me.
From behind.
Arms around my waist.
Cheek on my back.
I didn’t push her away.
I leaned back into her.
“Dante,” she whispered.
“What?”
“7 days,” she said.
“7 days,” I said.
“Can we do this?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Because of her?”
“No,” I said.
“Because of you.”
She didn’t let go.
And I didn’t either.
---
We went out.
Groceries.
For the week.
Rice.
Eggs.
Chicken.
Vegetables.
Milk for Mimi.
At the market, a woman stopped us.
Middle-aged.
Tired eyes.
“Excuse me.
Are you… from Dreame?”
Cassie froze.
“Yes,” she said.
“I read you,” the woman said.
“I read about Mimi.
Please don’t lose her.”
She pressed ₱500 into Cassie’s hand.
“For the lawyer,” she said.
And walked away.
Before we could say thank you.
Cassie cried.
Right there.
Between the tomatoes and onions.
I held her hand.
In public.
Because 7 days left.
And I was done hiding.
Done being quiet.
At home, Mimi drew.
Sunflowers.
Us three.
Cassie wrote.
I watched.
Both of them.
My heart in two places.
“Dante,” Cassie said.
“What?”
“If we win…”
“When,” I said.
“When we win,” she said.
“Can I stay?”
I looked at her.
Really looked.
At the flour on her shirt.
At the ink on her fingers.
At the way Mimi leaned on her.
“Yes,” I said.
“You can stay.”
She nodded.
“Forever?”
I didn’t answer.
Because forever is a big word.
But 7 days felt possible.
And 7 days could become 14.
And 14 could become always.
She published Chapter 18.
We ate dinner.
We washed dishes.
We read Mimi a story.
We slept.
All 3 of us.
7 days left.
_End of Chapter 18_
- Writer
