Mommy For Daniel

Shocked

“Ms. Fernandez? What does this mean?”

The officer’s voice broke the silence, demanding an explanation. After Daniel called her Mommy, everyone naturally assumed Natasha was the boy’s biological mother.

“No! I’m not his mother,” Natasha quickly protested, shaking her head.

“Daniel,” she addressed the child in her arms gently, “why did you call me ‘Mommy’? I’m not your mother.”

The boy’s lower lip trembled, “Mama … hic…”

“Eh?” Natasha panicked and looked at the police officers and staff, “I’m serious, sir, ma’am—I’m not his mother. I have no idea why he’s calling me that.”

Everyone exchanged puzzled glances. They were certain a child that young wouldn’t lie about something like this, yet Natasha’s tone made it clear she was telling the truth.

“Daniel,” the policewoman coaxed, “Ms. Fernandez isn’t your mom. Come with me, Dear, and we’ll find your mom.”

Daniel shook his head violently, clutching Natasha even tighter, “Hic … Mommy … I want Mommy …”

Natasha gave a helpless smile, “Oh Dear … I don’t think he wants to let me go. Officer, can I just take him home with me?”

The male officer sighed, “that’s not possible, Ms. Fernandez. We can’t allow you to take Daniel home. He’s officially a missing child. He needs to stay in our custody.”

Suddenly, Daniel began to cry loudly, “Nooo! Don’t want police! Want Mommy!”

Natasha gently rubbed his back to calm him down. The officers were growing increasingly uneasy, especially as the night wore on.

“Please, Sir,” Natasha pleaded softly, “let me take him home just for tonight. He won’t let go of me, and I have to get home soon.”

The two officers exchanged glances and subtle nods.

“All right,” the male officer finally said, “Ms. Fernandez, you may take Daniel home temporarily. But you’ll remain under our supervision.”

Natasha gave a resigned nod, “fine. You can hold on to my ID if you want.”

“May we have your phone number as well?” the policewoman asked.

Natasha agreed, handed over her phone so the officer could save her number, and after all the formalities, she left the airport with Daniel.

“Okay, Baby, let’s go home,” she said, settling him into the passenger seat.

“Yay! Going home with Mommy!” Daniel beamed.

Natasha was going to correct him again but stopped when she saw his bright and genuine smile. It was the first time she had seen him look truly happy since they met.

"Are you happy to come home with me, Baby?" she asked as she drove.

He nodded eagerly, “hihi … very happy! But…”

Natasha glanced at him, waiting for him to finish.

“…Mommy is not “Miss”, Mommy is Mommy. Daniel’s Mommy.”

Her brows furrowed, “uh? Daniel … I’m not your mom.”

His expression instantly fell, eyes glistening.

“Uh? Oh—yes, yes! I’m your mom,” Natasha quickly amended, panicked, “you can call me Mommy.”

The tears in his eyes vanished and his smile returned. Natasha sighed softly. It didn’t matter if he called her Mama as long as it made him smile.

When they arrived home, Natasha carried the sleeping boy inside and laid him gently on her bed.

“Phew…” she breathed out in relief after covering him with a blanket.

She brushed his hair softly and whispered, “who exactly are you, Daniel? Why on earth are you suddenly calling me ‘Mommy’?”

For a while, she simply watched the kid’s peaceful face, feeling her heart warm every time she looked at his small and delicate features.

***

The next morning, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed into the sky, Natasha was already at the market near her house. She wanted to buy clothes for Daniel before he woke up.

She picked up several essentials for the little boy, shirts, pants, sandals, toiletries, and formula milk. Seeing how thin he was compared to other children his age, she decided milk would help him regain some strength.

Once she had everything, she hurried home. She didn’t want to be away too long, worried he might wake up and find himself alone.

***

Natasha’s POV

“Hic … hic …”

Hearing Daniel’s soft sobs, I rushed into my bedroom. Sure enough, he was sitting on the bed, tears streaming down his cheeks. It was only 8 a.m.

“Hey, hey … my little sweetheart is awake~” I cooed, lifting him into my arms.

“Mommy, where were you? Hic … I woke up and Mommy wasn’t here…” he whimpered between sobs.

I smiled softly, “Mommy didn’t leave you, Baby. Mommy went to buy new clothes and milk for you.”

“New clothes?!” His eyes lit up instantly.

I chuckled. Just like that, his sadness was gone.

“Yes. Do you want to take a bath now?”

He stayed silent. Clearly, he didn’t want to.

“If you take a bath, you can wear your new clothes afterward,” I tempted him.

It worked. He nodded enthusiastically.

I led him to the bathroom, adjusting the water so it was warm, then began undressing him.

"Holy—Daniel! What happened to your back?!" I blurted out in shock.

Dear God…

His back and stomach were covered in bruises. Different shades of purple, clearly from injuries sustained at different times.

“Hic … Mommy …” Daniel’s voice broke, tears spilling again, “don’t hit me anymore…”

My hand flew to my mouth. I wasn’t stupid. His reaction told me everything. Daniel was a victim of family abuse.

I hugged the poor kid tightly, “shhh … it’s okay, sweetheart. Mommy will never hurt you. I promise.”

Without realizing it, tears slid down my own cheeks. My chest ached at the thought of such a fragile, tiny child enduring so much pain. I quickly wiped my tears, forcing a smile.

“Come on, let’s finish your bath,” I said, wiping his cheeks as well.

He nodded weakly, and I carefully washed him. Fifteen minutes later, I carried him back to the bedroom and dressed him in fresh clothes.

"Aaaand… all done!" I cheered, scooping him into a playful bear hug, “uwaah … look at this adorable little munchkin!"

"Ugh! Mommy! Can’t … breathe!" he protested between giggles.

I burst out laughing as he wiggled and squirmed in my arms, trying to escape.

"Alright, alright, you little rascal," I chuckled, carrying him to the living room and plopping him gently onto the couch.

“Stay here, Daniel. Mommy’s gonna whip up some yummy milk for you,” I said, turning on the TV for him.

He nodded obediently, settling into the sofa to watch cartoons.

In the kitchen, before making his milk, I grabbed my phone and called the policewoman from yesterday.

“Hello, officer,” I said when she answered.

“Yes, Ms. Fernandez. What is it?”

“I need to report something,” I paused, “I believe Daniel is a victim of domestic abuse. I found multiple bruises all over his body.”

The line went silent for a moment. Clearly, she was shocked.

“All right, Ms. Fernandez. Thank you for telling us. We’ll begin an investigation immediately. Can we meet as soon as possible?”

“Yes. I have Classes today, but after that, I can come to the police station,” I replied.

“Classes? Then who will look after Daniel?” she asked.

“Um … oh! I’ll drop him off at a daycare near my campus.”

“Very well. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, ending the call.

I felt relieved that the police were taking this seriously. Hopefully, the truth would come out soon. And whoever hurt Daniel … I wish they would face the punishment they deserved.