Daniel
1194 Words
Chapter 2
Fridays were usually slow for Natasha. Her schedule wasn’t as hectic as the other days. Her classes ended earlier, and she didn’t have any coaching sessions at the shooting club. Still, since she had promised to drive Henry to the airport today, she decided to stay on campus until the professor finished teaching.
‘Better to get my assignment for tomorrow done now,’ she thought, ‘so I can relax when I’m back from the airport later.’
She headed over to a bench near the campus artificial lake, opened her laptop, and got to work. An hour later, she was finally done.
Bzzz … Bzzz …
She reached for her phone, which was lying on the table, and saw Henry’s name flashing on the screen. She quickly answered.
“Hello, Sir Henry?”
“Hi, Natasha. Where are you? I’ve just finished teaching,” Henry’s voice came through the line.
"Oh, I’m by the lake right now, Sir. Would you like me to head over?"
“Yes, meet me at the parking lot,” he replied.
“Okay, I’ll be right there.”
She packed up her things and made her way toward the professors’ parking area. From a distance, she spotted Henry just arriving at his car.
“Sir Henry!” she called out.
He turned to see her jogging toward him, slightly out of breath.
“Natasha? Why are you running?” he asked.
She grinned sheepishly, “hehe … I was hoping to get here first. But looks like you still beat me.”
Henry laughed. She often acted in ways that reminded him of how it might feel to have a daughter.
“All right, let’s get going. Here’s the key,” he said, handing her the car keys.
She slid into the driver’s seat while Henry took the passenger side. Soon, the white car pulled out of campus and began the 25-kilometer drive to the airport.
***
About forty-five minutes later, they pulled into their destination. Natasha stuck around for a bit, helping Henry haul his suitcase instead of heading straight home.
“You don’t have to, Natasha. It’s not that heavy. I can manage,” Henry said.
“It’s fine, Sir. Besides, this gives me a reason to go inside the airport. I want to look around,” she replied with a smile.
Henry chuckled, and together they walked into the terminal. Since his flight wasn’t for a while, they sat in the lobby area. Natasha people-watched while Henry double-checked his belongings before check-in.
“Sir,” she called, drawing Henry’s attention, “can I ask you something?”
“Of course. Ask away.”
“The client you’re meeting in San Francisco … is it about a criminal case? Or maybe politics?”
Henry’s lips curved into a faint smile. Natasha’s endless curiosity was something he’d always found endearing.
“Nothing that big. The client is actually a friend of mine, he is also a lawyer at my law firm,” Henry explained. “but recently, he’s been working on a complicated case that required him to travel to San Francisco. Since he hasn’t been able to resolve it, he asked for my help.”
“Why San Francisco?”
Henry paused, “hmm … I’m not entirely sure yet. But he told me that the key witness in his case is Japanese woman who lives there.”
“Wow … so being a lawyer means you really have to pay attention to all those details,” she said in awe.
Henry glanced at his watch.
“It’s time for me to check-in,” he said, standing up, “you can head straight home, just take my car with you.”
Her face lit up. Inwardly, she cheered at the thought of having Henry’s car for a while. It meant she could save on bus fares to campus.
“Have a safe trip, Sir Henry,” she said.
“And you should be careful on the way home,” he replied before walking away.
Natasha started to leave the airport, but stopped halfway when she needed the restroom. She headed to a toilet tucked away in a quiet corner of the building.
***
Natasha’s POV
What a relief. I washed my hands at the sink and glancing at my reflection in the mirror. The restroom here was unusually quiet, probably because it was all the way at the far end of the terminal. Most people preferred the ones near the entrance and exit. Not that I minded.
Just as I stepped out, I caught the faint sound of crying. Not the eerie wail of some creepy woman in white from a horror story. No, this was different. It sounded like a small child, sobbing. And it was coming from the men’s restroom.
I hesitated. Something felt off, but I couldn’t just ignore it. On the other hand, barging into the men’s restroom could be a disaster if someone saw me.
Hic … hic …
The sobbing was soft but clear. I glanced around, hoping to spot a man I could ask for help, but there was no one. This restroom was too hidden, so no one else was nearby.
“Ugh … screw what people think,” I muttered.
I couldn’t hold back my curiosity any longer. I stepped inside the men’s restroom. There was only one stall with the door shut. But wait! It was locked … from the outside?
Frowning, I unlatched it and swung the door open.
My heart lurched at the sight.
A little boy sat on the toilet seat, shoulders shaking as he sobbed.
My heartbeat quickened when his tear-filled eyes met mine. I didn’t know why, but a lump rose in my throat, and I wanted to cry too. His red eyes and nose told me he’d been crying for a long time. So long that he could barely sob anymore.
“Hey…” I whispered, stepping closer and crouching in front of him.
“Why are you here all alone? Where are your parents?”
He didn’t answer. He just kept staring at me, his glassy eyes cutting right through my heart.
Then I noticed the silver necklace around his neck, with a name engraved on it: Daniel.
“Daniel?” I asked softly, smiling at him, “is that your name?”
The boy gave a tiny nod.
“So, Daniel … where are your parents?”
Still no answer. Just that same gaze.
“Come on, let’s go find them,” I said gently, reaching for his hand.
He didn’t resist, but he also didn’t move. I straightened up, puzzled.
“You don’t want to come with me?”
Silence.
“Come on. I’m not a bad person, promise,” I reassured him.
More silence. Oh, God. How was I going to convince him?
“Um … do you want me to carry you?”
His head bobbed in a small nod.
Relief flooded through me. I smiled, lifted him into my arms, and decided to take him to the information desk. He was light—maybe three or four years old—and heartbreakingly thin.
- Writer
