Traveling Back Ten Years To Become My Boyfriend's Mother

On my first day working as a kindergarten teacher, I was mistaken for someone's mom.

It's normal for children to mistake their teacher for their mom when they start kindergarten, but it was a parent who called me mom.

He wore a gray sweatshirt and black casual pants. He held a little boy's hand. His face had sharp features and blue eyes.

"Mom," he said.

His voice was deep and pleasant.

I looked behind me. There was no one else. Was he on the phone?

"Mom," he repeated.

I looked up and met his slightly trembling eyes. I was startled.

Then the little boy's soft voice sounded, "Uncle, why are you calling the teacher Mom?"

1

On the first day of my new job, I was mistaken for someone's mom.

I explained to him for a long time at the kindergarten entrance. I was only 22 years old. There was no way I could have a child his age.

But he was very stubborn. He stared at me. "You are my mom," he said.

I was speechless until the principal came out. She looked at him and quickly pulled me aside. "You can't offend him. His family owns this whole street," she said.

I looked back and saw him still standing there. His eyes were fixed on me. It was filled with a long-lasting sadness.

It felt like he had known me for a long time.

I spread my hands. "What should I do? Does he have a mental illness?" I asked.

"He's a financial graduate from the Tanaxes. His IQ is probably higher than ours combined," the principal said.

The principal gave me half a day off. She asked me to accompany him until he got bored, and then come back.

"No deduction in pay?" I asked.

The principal assured me. "Absolutely no deduction!"

2

Skipping work on my first day felt pretty good.

I walked up to him. "Let's go. Where do you want to go?" I asked.

He looked down at me. He curled his lips, and smiled childishly.

"You finally admitted you're my mom," he said.

I sighed and waved my hand. He could call me whatever he wanted. I wasn't going to argue with someone who might be crazy.

He lowered his head and rubbed his stomach, looking a bit disappointed. "I'm really hungry," he said.

I looked at the fine hair on his forehead and his long, curled eyelashes.

Surprisingly, a wave of motherly affection welled up in me. I decided to take him to eat.

"What do you like to eat?" I asked.

Looking at his delicate skin, he seemed pampered. I wasn't sure if he would like the place I picked.

He looked at me eagerly. "I'll eat whatever you eat, Mom," he said.

I touched my nearly empty wallet and thought it over. "Okay, let's go eat burgers then," I decided.

There was a burger shop near the school that had been around for decades. Their mayonnaise burgers were something I had eaten since childhood.

After ordering, we sat facing each other. He sat obediently on a small stool, looking a lot like a child.

As I sanitized the utensils, I questioned him, "What's your name? Where do you live? Where do you work?"

He sat upright and answered seriously, "My name is Noah Clark. I live at No. 11, Xenium Residence. I currently work at my father's company. Mom, how could you forget all this?"

I set the utensils for him and scratched my head. "I can't help it. I have a bad memory."

I had a car accident when I was a child. Ever since then, my memory has been poor.

The server placed the mayonnaise burgers in front of me. Noah suddenly said, "Mom, your taste is still the same as when you were a kid."

I was startled. How did he know my taste since childhood?

He expertly dipped the burger in mayonnaise and placed it on my plate.

He looked up at me. "Mom, it's been a long time," he said.