After I turn five years of age and have my very own phone, I start receiving strange messages every single day. For some reason, the sender keeps referring to me as their mom.

At 3:00 am, they send me another message.

"Mom, I saw you in my dreams again. The rain is seeping into the attic. My stepmom told me to use a rag to soak up all the water, but the rag is too small. Even though I tried to wipe it up all night, it still wouldn't dry. Mom, I'm so cold and hungry. I miss you so much…"

I tilt my head, looking at the rain pouring outside the window. I then earnestly reply, "Don't be scared, sweetheart. Where are you right now? I will bring you something yummy!"

After I received my own phone at five years old, I started receiving strange messages every day. The sender of those messages—a young lady—kept calling me "Mom".

At 3:00 am, they sent another one. "Mom, I dreamed of you again. The attic is leaking, so my stepmom told me to soak up the water with a rag. Only, the rag's too small. I wiped all night and still couldn't dry everything. I'm hungry and cold, Mom. I miss you so much…"

Tilting my head, I gazed at the rain pouring outside before earnestly replying, "Don't be scared, sweetheart. Where are you right now? I will bring you something tasty!"

"Who are you?" the other person replied quickly.

I blinked in confusion. Pouting, I asked, "Weren't you the one who called me Mom?"

Why was this person now asking who I was?

To show that I was a good mother, I even added a cute emoticon at the end of my text.

But after waiting a long time without receiving a single reply from my daughter, I eventually drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, rubbing my sleepy eyes, I instinctively reached for my phone.

On the screen was a new message from my daughter. "You're not my mom. She died five years ago."

Looking down at my chubby belly, I puffed up with indignation and placed my hands on my hips. "How rude! I'm only five years old and very much alive!"

A moment later, realization struck me. Her mom must have disappeared five years ago.

Mom told me that people reincarnated once they were gone. Since I so happened to be five years old this year, maybe I really was her mom.

Besides, I was the best mom among all the other kids whenever we played pretend at school.

I was just about to tell my daughter this when she sent me another message.

"I don't know who you are, but thank you. This was my mom's phone number when she was still alive. Today is my 18th birthday. If it's okay with you, could you wish me a happy birthday?"

As I slipped into my bunny slippers, I used the voice-to-text function to text her.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart. Be happy and eat lots of yummy candy every day!"

Then, it occurred to me all at once. On my birthday, I would always receive presents from Mom and Dad. Shouldn't my daughter receive a big birthday gift too?

With that thought in mind, I texted her again. "What would you like as a birthday present? I like cute dolls and chocolates. What about you?"

There was a long pause before she replied, "Can you send me some painkillers?"

I didn't know what painkillers were, but I knew that people only took something meant for pain when they were sick.

I quickly asked, "Sweetheart, are you sick?"

"The truth is, my stepmom locked me in the attic last night…" As if afraid I might take it the wrong way, she quickly explained, "She accused me of stealing money, locked me up, and beat me. I'm in a lot of pain right now. I just want some painkillers."

Her stepmom sounded really mean—much like the evil queen from that fairy tale!

I angrily texted back, "Your stepmom is evil! She's like a monster! Don't worry, sweetheart. My dad's a Leo, which basically makes him a lion. I'll get him to pounce on her and avenge you!"

Then, I asked her for her address, hurried downstairs, and approached Janet Woodard, our housekeeper.

"Ms. Woodard, I need a delivery guy!"

I pulled out the medicine storage box from the cabinet, got on the floor, and rummaged through it.

There were a bunch of colorful pill containers, but I couldn't recognize a single one of them.

I looked left, then right, but none of them seemed to be painkillers.

Ms. Woodard noticed my scrunched-up face and quickly asked with a smile, "Penny, dear, why are you digging through the medicine storage box?"

Looking up at her, I asked, "Ms. Woodard, which one is the painkiller?"

At my words, Ms. Woodard instantly tensed up. She hurriedly scooped me up from the floor, feeling my forehead and palms in concern.

"What's wrong, dear? Are you feeling unwell?"

I shook my head meekly. "I'm not sick, but my daughter's birthday is today. I need to send her some painkillers!"

Thinking that I was talking about one of my dolls, Ms. Woodard gently corrected me. "Sweetheart, we eat cake on birthdays, not painkillers."

Hearing that, I smacked my head in sudden realization. Right! I shouldn't just be giving my daughter painkillers for her birthday. I should give her a cake and some candy, too.

That way, the medicine wouldn't taste so bad.

Without delay, I asked Ms. Woodard to order a cute little cake for me. Though she had no idea what I was up to, she went ahead and placed the order anyway.

I chose an adorable bunny cake, bought two boxes of painkillers for my daughter, then grabbed some of my favorite toffee—the ones I had been saving and couldn't bear to eat myself.

I placed everything in a pretty pink bag and had the delivery guy take it to my daughter's school.

"My dear sweetheart, I prepared lots of gifts for you. Remember to eat a piece of candy after your medicine so it won't leave a bad taste in your mouth. Happy birthday!"

After the delivery was made, I asked the delivery guy, "Sir, is my daughter okay?"

He let out a small sigh.

"That young lady is covered in bruises. It's as if she's been abused. Her clothes are covered in patches, too. She looks so pale and pitiful."

The more I listened to his words, the more my heart ached. After all, what mother wouldn't worry about her daughter?

Soon after, my daughter sent me a picture of her eating the cake. She texted, "Thank you. This is the first time I've had cake on my birthday since my mom passed away. It's really good, and the candy is very sweet."

"It's okay, sweetheart. From now on, I will make sure you have cake on every birthday!"

"Thank you, Mom," came her reply.

I cheerfully picked up my phone and started searching the internet for tips on raising a daughter.

According to what I read online, a daughter should be brought up in luxury and be given the most wonderful things in the world.

As I bobbed my head in sudden enlightenment, my gaze settled on the pink piggy bank in the corner of my room.

…

When Mom walked into my room with a strawberry milkshake in hand, I was busy smashing my beloved piggy bank with a tiny hammer.

The coins rolled and bounced across the carpet like popping candy. Bending down, I picked them up one at a time.

"This one will be for buying candy for my daughter… This one will be for a pretty dress… I'll use this one to buy her the newest toy available… And this one will be for Dad so that he'll teach that stepmom of hers a lesson!"

Leaning against the wall, Mom smiled as she watched me mumble to myself.

"Penny, sweetheart, why did you smash your favorite piggy bank? Is there a new toy you want to buy?"

I hugged her excitedly, exclaiming, "I have a daughter now. Of course I have to take care of her!"

Mom looked shocked by my words. "When did you get a daughter?"

I showed her my phone proudly, pointing at the screen full of messages. "I found her myself. She's a pitiful thing who doesn't have a mom and gets bullied by her stepmom."

"I read online that raising a daughter costs a lot of money. I'll have to work hard in the future!"

Mom looked at me without a word. She then patiently explained, "Sweetheart, there are many bad people in this world. Not everyone will love you the way Mom and Dad do. What if the person on the other end is a scammer?"

I refused to believe that. "No way. If she were a scammer, she'd definitely ask for lots and lots of presents. But my daughter only asked me for a single painkiller. Her mom left her. If I, her new mom, don't take care of her, she'll be bullied to death by her stepmom!"

Mom sighed. "That won't happen. The police will help her."

I shook my head as hard as I could. "The police can't help everyone. Besides, I'm her mom. I will protect her!"

As soon as Dad came in and heard my words, his briefcase slipped from his hand and fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

"What? Our sweetheart is a mom now? But you're still so young, dear. You can't even tie your own shoelaces yet—"

"I don't have to know how to tie shoelaces to be a mom!" Tilting my head, I argued, "All I have to do as a mom is wipe away my daughter's tears, share my sweets with her, and…"

Standing on my tiptoes, I kissed Mom and Dad on the cheeks. "And telling her I love her a hundred times every single day! I believe I can be a really good mom!"

At a loss for words, Mom and Dad sighed softly. "Alright, then. We believe you can be a good mom. But we still have to make sure you're safe, so we'll have to run a background check on that girl…"

I didn't understand what they were talking about, but what I did know was that they would definitely like my daughter, too, with how well-behaved and nice she was.

That night, my daughter sent me a photo. I couldn't see much of it as it was taken in a pitch-black attic.

Still, I could see a thin comforter spread across the icy floor. "This is where I sleep every night."

Seeing how dark and gloomy the attic was, I felt my heart ache.

I turned to snap a picture of the starry night lights stretching across my room. "Don't be afraid, sweetheart. I'll share my lights with you next time!"

Smiling, she replied, "Okay!"

She then sent me another photo. It was an old, faded family portrait in which she was smiling brightly. The woman holding her was also very beautiful. On the woman's ear was a little mole that was very visible.

I scrambled out of bed and looked in the mirror at my own ear.

Then, I turned to Mom proudly. "Look, Mom! I have the same mole as my daughter's mom!"

I made sure to snap a picture of my ear before texting, "My grandpa told me that when people pass away, they bring a gift with them when they return to this world. See, the mole on my ear looks exactly like your mom's!"

After what felt like forever, my daughter finally replied, "Then, will you always be here for me, Mom?"

"Of course!"

This was nothing like the make-believe games I used to play because from this moment onward, I truly had a daughter. And I would always be there for her.

That evening, Grandpa and Grandma transferred some money to me.

I didn't hesitate to transfer the money to my daughter.

Shocked, she asked, "Why did you send me money?"

I answered, "Because you're my daughter! Moms are supposed to give their daughters allowances!"

She returned the transfer right away.

The chat box showed she was typing, but it took a long time before her message finally came through.

"Thank you, but I really can't take your money. My dad works on a ship. He pays my tuition and living expenses on time. And I can eat at school…"