THE LONG NIGHT
Mira woke up sobbing. The nightmare still lingered in her mind. She had dreamt of playing with her mother, laughter filling the air like music. But suddenly, her mother’s expression changed—tears welled up in her eyes and began to fall. Confused, Mira asked why she was crying, but her mother only shook her head and wept even more.
Then, without a word, her mother stood up to leave. Mira panicked and grabbed her hand, refusing to let go. Her mother wiped both their tears away with the back of her hand, patted Mira’s back gently, and whispered, “I will come back for you, my love. Soon.”
But then she walked away. Mira ran after her, calling out, pleading. But the faster she ran, the farther her mother seemed. Her legs grew weak, her chest burned, but she didn’t stop—until, finally, her mother vanished into thin air.
She collapsed to her knees, burying her face in her hands as she cried her heart out. And that was when she woke up.
It was 2 a.m. The room was dark and silent, except for the sound of her muffled sobs. Her cries grew louder, shaking her small frame, until they reached the ears of her father.
Startled, he sat up, his heart pounding. It took him a moment to realize where the sound was coming from. Then he saw her—his little angel, curled up in distress, tears streaming down her face.
Without hesitation, he reached for her, pulling her into his arms. She clung to him, her tiny body trembling. He didn’t need to ask what was wrong—he already knew.
He began to hum a familiar lullaby, the same one her mother used to sing after bedtime stories:
Stop crying, baby
My little lady
You will have a fishy
On your little fishy
You will have a fishy
When Dad is back.
Slowly, her sobs softened. He rocked her gently, rubbing her back in soothing circles. After a long silence, he finally asked, “Mira, what’s wrong?”
Her lips trembled, but instead of answering, she broke into another fit of tears. He held her tighter. Then, amidst the sobs, she whispered, “Mummy.”
His heart clenched. He sighed deeply, stroking her hair. “Mommy will be back soon, sweetheart,” he assured her. “She only went to visit Grandma, remember? She’s been sick, and Mommy had to take care of her. But she’ll come home to us soon.”
Mira sniffled, her big, teary eyes searching his face. “Daddy? Yes, my jewel? She hesitated, then asked, “Is it true? Will Mommy really come home soon?”
He nodded. “Yes, my love.” A pause. Then, in a small, broken voice, she asked, “When?”
He sighed again, this time struggling to keep his own emotions in check. Clearing his throat, he forced a smile. “Very soon, my sweetheart.” But Mira had heard this before. The same words. The same excuse. And she was tired of it.
She suddenly pulled away from his embrace, her small hands clenched into fists. “Daddy, you’re lying to me! You always say the same thing, but Mommy never comes back!” Her voice cracked with frustration. “I don’t want to hear any more boring stories. If you won’t take me to her, I’ll go find her myself!”
Her little chest heaved as she fought back another wave of tears. “Mommy is my Superwoman, and I am her Super Kid,” she declared, her voice trembling. Then, softer, more brokenly, she added, “I just want my Mommy.”
Her father could no longer hold back his own tears. His vision blurred as he reached for her again, wrapping her in his arms. He kissed her forehead gently, whispering, “I know, my love. I know.”
Mira sobbed harder, clinging to him like he was her last lifeline. “I want to see her, Daddy. I love her so much.”
“I know,” he repeated, stroking her hair. “And she loves you too, more than anything.”
He patted her back, rocking her again. Slowly, her sobs turned into quiet sniffles. He began humming her lullaby once more, and this time, Mira weakly joined in, her voice barely above a whisper.
Before long, exhaustion took over. She finally drifted off to sleep, her tiny body curled against his chest. Her father didn’t move. He was afraid that if he laid her down, she might wake up again.
So he stayed there, holding her close, staring at the ceiling as the weight of the night pressed down on him. It was indeed a long night. And before sleep finally claimed him, a single tear slipped down his cheek.
