The next morning, I woke to the sensation of small hands holding mine.
“Mom…” a soft voice said.
I opened my eyes and saw the little boy I had helped before.
“Mom, you’re awake.”
“Why are you here, baby?” I asked, noticing Nurse Lea standing nearby.
“Good morning, Nurse Lea. Say good morning, baby.”
“Good morning, ma’am,” he said shyly.
I smiled and patted his head.
“Good morning to you both. I’ll leave now, Miss Lingzhi,” Nurse Lea said, surprised to hear him call me “Mommy.”
“Okay. Thank you,” I replied as she smiled and closed the door behind her.
“Why are you here, baby?” I asked again.
“Because I missed you, Mommy.”
I smiled and stroked his hair. “Let’s go to your room.”
He nodded and stood with me.
“Mommy…” he said tentatively.
“Yes?”
“Can I call you that?”
I chuckled. “You’re already calling me that. But… why?”
He smiled warmly. “Because I love you.”
“You love me?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes!” he answered, his eyes lighting up with joy.
After our conversation, I asked his bodyguard—the same one who had been watching over him last time—for permission to take him to the garden playground. The bodyguard trailed behind us, explaining that he needed to keep watch. Oh! I suddenly realized something—I hadn’t introduced myself to the little boy or his bodyguard yet.
“Baby, what’s your name?” I asked out of the blue. He stopped walking immediately, turned to face me, and pouted. He walked up close and stared straight into my eyes with an expression I couldn’t quite figure out. His behavior left me both amused and curious.
"I'm sorry, Mommy..." he muttered, his small head lowering until his gaze was fixed on the ground. His shoulders slumped, and the sadness in his voice was unmistakable.
"Why, baby? Don’t be sorry. I’m not angry," I said softly, kneeling down so I could look him in the eyes.
He hesitated before speaking again. "But I forgot to tell you my name," he confessed, his little hands fidgeting nervously. "I asked you to be my mom, and you don’t even know my name. That’s so rude of me… I’m a bad boy."
The way he said it tugged at my heart. His voice, filled with guilt, broke through me like a storm. I reached out, gently tilting his chin up so our eyes met. "Baby, listen to me," I began with a soft smile. "You’re not rude or bad. You were just excited, weren’t you? And sometimes, when we’re excited, we forget things. That’s perfectly okay."
His eyes widened slightly as if trying to make sense of my words. Then, after a beat, he gave a tiny nod.
"Can you tell me now?" I asked gently. "I’d love to know your name."
A smile finally crept onto his face, small but genuine. He stood a little taller. "Okay... I’m Alexander, but you can call me Alex."
"Alex," I repeated softly, savoring the sound. "That’s such a strong and beautiful name."
“And my name is Lingzhi, Alex,” I added with a warm smile.
His eyes lit up with excitement as he repeated, “Lingzhi. It’s a pretty name, Mommy.”
The way he said it sent a strange but comforting warmth through me. I wasn’t his mother, and being called "Mom" felt a little out of place. Yet, at the same time, it filled me with a quiet joy. My emotions were conflicted—happy but uncertain. I couldn’t help but think about his real parents. If they heard him calling me that, it would no doubt be awkward or even troubling. Yet, despite the short time we’d spent together, it felt as if we’d known each other far longer. His gaze held a kind of purity and trust that was both innocent and deeply moving.
His smile grew even wider as he reached for my hand, his small fingers curling around mine. That simple gesture felt significant, like the beginning of a bond neither of us had expected but both somehow needed."
“Baby, can we go there? I want to sit with you on that bench," I said, pointing to a wooden bench nestled under a flowering tree at the edge of the garden. The sunlight filtered gently through the branches, casting dappled shadows across the grass.
Alex looked up at me with those big, hopeful eyes. “Okay, Mommy. Let’s go!” he said eagerly, squeezing my hand. His small fingers felt warm and secure in mine, a sensation that filled me with a strange, unexpected comfort.
We walked together, the soft crunch of gravel under our feet blending with the distant laughter of other children playing. When we reached the bench, I sat down, and Alex climbed up right next to me, close enough that our arms touched.
“This is our bench now,” he declared proudly. “Only for us.”
I chuckled. “Our secret spot?”
“Yes!” he nodded enthusiastically. “No one else can sit here. Just you and me.”
The peacefulness of the garden seemed to wrap around us like a warm blanket. We sat there quietly for a moment, watching the world go by, the scent of blooming flowers carried on the breeze. I realized then that despite everything, there was something soothing about this little boy’s presence—a lightness I hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Alex turned to me suddenly. “Mommy… do you think we’ll always be together?”
I looked at him, my heart swelling. “I don’t know what the future holds, baby. But for now, I’m right here with you. And that’s all that matters.”
He smiled and leaned his head on my shoulder. For the first time in a long while, I felt that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
With everything that has happened to me, there’s always this lingering feeling that something is missing—like an unanswered question hanging in the air. But there’s one thing I’m sure of: I want to be happy. Maybe what I’ve been searching for all this time is happiness. And perhaps, Alex holds the key to that answer.
I don’t want to see this situation as an escape or, worse, as a way of using him to fill the void that’s been in my heart for so long. What I want is for these moments to be meaningful, for each shared second to be something special. I want to create memories worth treasuring, not just a search for answers.
“Alex, I need to ask you something... but promise me you won’t get upset,” I said gently, brushing a strand of hair from his face.
He lifted his head from my shoulder and looked at me with curious eyes.
“I promise,” he said firmly, his little hands clenching for emphasis.
“I know you want to call me mom, and that makes me happy... but if someone you know hears it, they might not understand. Do you see what I mean?”
“It doesn’t matter to me,” he said stubbornly.
I smiled softly. “But Alex, I’m not your mom. And if people hear you calling me that, it could cause confusion. It might even cause trouble for your father. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
His lips trembled slightly, and he lowered his head. “Okay... I promise not to call you that. But... if my father says it’s okay, can I call you mom?”
I felt a pang in my chest at his earnest question. “Alex, you’re such a sweet boy. But can I tell you something?”
He nodded, still looking down.
“Do you know why people get married?”
Lingzhi’s voice remained tender, as she knew Alex was a bright boy. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings or cause any confusion. And above all, she didn’t want any rumors to affect the reputation of Alex’s family, especially his parents’.
Alexander's mind wandered back to the happiest moments with his parents—the laughter that echoed in their home, the warmth of their shared meals, and the joy of picnics in scenic places. He remembered how his parents always told him they loved him, their eyes shining with affection. They often held hands or shared sweet gestures that made him feel safe and cherished.
One day, Alexander had stumbled upon a tender scene. His parents were in their room, hugging each other with such happiness that it seemed the world had melted away for them. Just then, his uncle swept him up into his arms.
“Uncle?” he asked, blinking in surprise.
“Shh, they might hear us,” his uncle said with a grin. “Let’s give them some privacy. Tell me, do you want a little sister?”
“S-Sister? Am I going to be a big brother?” Alexander’s eyes widened with excitement.
His uncle chuckled softly. “If you let them have their time together, who knows? You just might.”
“Really?” Alexander’s excitement was replaced by thoughtful wonder. Why would his parents do something like that for him? What did it mean when they hugged each other so tightly?
Noticing the boy’s thoughtful silence, his uncle asked, “Why the quiet, Xander?”
Alexander looked up with curious eyes. “Uncle, why would they do that for me? And why are they hugging each other like that? They looked really happy.”
His uncle’s face softened into a warm smile. “Because they love you. And even more than that, they deeply love each other. That’s why you were born, Xander—because of their love.”
“Because of love?” Alexander repeated, his small mind working to understand such a big idea.
Now, sitting with Lingzhi, Alexander’s memory of that day seemed to wrap around him like a warm blanket. “It’s because of love,” he said confidently.
Lingzhi’s smile blossomed, her eyes filled with admiration. “That’s right, my dear. It’s because of love. But your father and I don’t share that kind of connection. We don’t know each other that way. If someone heard you call me ‘Mom’—especially your mommy—it might hurt her.”
Alexander’s brow furrowed. “Why would it hurt Mommy?”
“Because she loves your father. And she loves you more than anything in the world.”
“But my uncle said Mommy would be happy if I called him Daddy,” Alexander said, a puzzled expression on his face.
Lingzhi tilted her head slightly. “Why did he say that?”
“Because—” Alexander began, but his words were interrupted by the soft crunch of approaching footsteps. His uncle appeared with two bodyguards in tow. Neither Lingzhi nor Alexander had noticed him arrive, but Jacob, Alexander’s ever-watchful bodyguard, had spotted him earlier and quietly greeted him. Together, they had overheard every word of Alexander and Lingzhi’s conversation, a quiet storm of emotions hanging in the air.
