Mommy For Daniel

Natasha

In a classroom at the Faculty of Law, a young woman sat at the professor’s desk, typing away on a laptop. No, she wasn’t the professor who was teaching the class. She was a student, and also the assistant to the professor who was currently giving a presentation to his students.

Her name was Natasha Fernandez, a nineteen-year-old second-year law student. She was studying on a full scholarship at the university, and since her very first year, she had been assisting the professor, Henry Harrington. She had volunteered for the position herself, and Henry had chosen her not only for her initiative but also for her active participation and genuine enthusiasm in every class.

“All right, that’s it for today’s lecture. As usual, there’s no homework for you all,” Henry announced with a warm smile.

“Yeay!” cheers erupted from the students, making him chuckle.

“But … be ready for a quiz in our next meeting,” he added.

“Aww…” The cheers quickly turned into groans of disappointment. Even so, Henry remained one of the most beloved professors on campus. He was professional, patient, never quick to anger, and generous with giving grades.

As the students began packing up, Henry made his way toward Natasha, who was still tidying up the presentation equipment.

“Natasha, could you book me a plane ticket for tomorrow afternoon? I have a meeting with a client in San Francisco,” Henry said.

"You got it, sir!" Natasha replied.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Henry added, “could you drive me to the airport tomorrow? Take my car. We’ll leave straight from here since I have classes until noon. Think you can manage?”

“Of course, Sir Henry,” she answered with a playful grin, making him laugh softly.

You might wonder why a teaching assistant like Natasha handled errands outside of class. The answer was simple: in addition to being Henry’s teaching assistant, she was also one of his personal assistants. After all, Henry’s main profession wasn’t teaching. He was a lawyer. In fact, he was the head attorney of his own private law firm, Harrington Law Firm.

“Well, I’ll get going then,” Henry said.

“Alright, sir. Take care,” Natasha replied.

After Henry left the classroom, Natasha quickly packed her bag and headed out as well. She had to get to her other job.

Natasha worked part-time at a shooting club near her house. In her childhood, she was a young shooting athlete, but as a teenager, her passion shifted toward law, and she left her athletic career behind.

Her part-time job wasn’t just for passing the time or gaining experience. It was a necessity. She lived alone in the house she had inherited from her parents, who had died in a car accident five years ago.

“Natasha!” someone called just as she was about to leave the building.

She turned and saw a fellow student, “oh, hi! What’s up, Alan?”

“You’re heading to work now?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Come with me. I’ll give you a ride.”

“Wait, isn’t your house in the opposite direction from my workplace?” she asked.

"Gonna stop by the hospital first. It’s right on the way to your work," he explained.

Natasha tilted her head in thought, then smiled, “hmm … Alright then. Let’s go.”

They headed toward the parking lot together. The male student’s name was Alan Robert Harrington. Yes, a Harrington. He shared the same surname as Henry because he was Henry’s second son. Alan was also a law student, and over time, he and Natasha became close friends. Just friends. Nothing more.

***

After a ten-minute drive, Alan pulled up in front of the shooting club. He had been here many times, sometimes to drop Natasha off, sometimes to practice shooting himself. The club was open to the public anyway.

“You’re not coming in? You usually hang around here for a bit,” Natasha asked.

Alan shook his head, “nah, not today. Told my mom and John I’d meet them.”

Natasha buckled her bag and gave him a small wave “alright, thanks for the lift.”

Alan shot her a playful grin, “no biggie. You know I’m your personal chauffeur, right?”

She rolled her eyes, chuckling, “yeah, yeah. I’ll send you the bill later.”

“Pfft,” he scoffed playfully, “you wish.”

Natasha hopped out of the car and made her way into the building. Alan’s car slowly rolled away. Inside, she went straight to the changing room and swapped her clothes for a T-shirt and training pants. Then she headed toward the practice range.

“Miss Natasha!”

Her eyes landed on the voice’s owner, a ten-year-old girl, smiling brightly. Nayla. She was Natasha’s shooting student and had a shooting practice session scheduled that day.

“Oh, Nayla, have you been waiting long?” Natasha asked warmly.

The little girl shook her head, “no, I just got here.”

"Who dropped you off?"

"My mom dropped me off, but she had to go right after," Nayla explained.

"Okay, let’s get going."

They began their training session, which lasted about an hour and a half. Most of Natasha’s students at the shooting club were children. She trained aspiring athletes and junior competitors. Her skills weren’t yet at the senior coaching level, but the pay for a junior coach—about three hundred dollars per month—was still decent. Combined with her salary as Henry’s assistant, it was enough to cover her daily expenses and add to her savings for the future.

This was Natasha’s daily routine: university in the morning and shooting lessons in the afternoon. She only taught at the club from Monday to Thursday.

On days when she didn’t have a coaching shift, she usually went to the Harrington Law Firm to help Henry. Her job as his personal assistant was flexible. She wasn’t required to be at his side at all times, only when needed. And Henry never minded her schedule. In fact, he had come to see Natasha almost like a daughter of his own.