On that day, around noon on May 6, 2025, the usual chaos reigned around the Népliget bus station in Budapest.
After the spring showers, traffic slowed down, drivers honked impatiently, and tourists stumbled through the puddles with their bags.
Pedestrians, with umbrellas in hand, carefully avoided the puddles and tried not to slip on the rain-soaked sidewalk.
The 99 bus was just rolling into the stop, while in the distance, a homeless man tried to wipe the rain off his face with the sleeve of his coat.
But he wasn’t the one who really caught everyone’s attention that day.
At the center of attention was a thin, pale-faced little girl, about six years old, clutching an orange backpack, standing alone in the middle of the crowd.
She was by herself.
Completely alone.
“Mum?” she whispered softly, almost inaudibly.
“Dad?”
Most of the pedestrians didn’t pay any attention to her.
A few glanced at her, but then walked away – some to their business, some rushing after the bus.
A woman briefly stopped, but then shook her head and hurried off.
The little girl didn’t cry.
But her face… her face looked like someone who wasn’t surprised anymore if no one helped.
At that moment, Tordai Júlia appeared on the scene, a woman in her fifties, elegant yet somewhat worn out.
She worked as a teacher in Zugló, and had just returned to the Budapest bus station from a rural conference.
She was a little nervous because the bus was late, her back hurt, and her phone had run out of battery.
However, as soon as she got off the vehicle, she immediately noticed the little girl.
“Hi… are you okay?” she asked carefully, crouching down to look her in the eye.
The little girl just nodded.
She didn’t move.
“Are you lost? Is someone waiting for you?”
“I think… I don’t know,” the little girl whispered.
“They told me to wait here.”
“Who told you?”
“The man. And the woman who was with him. They said they’d come back.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Since the morning. They said they were going to the bakery.”
Júlia turned pale.
Since the morning?! That was at least four hours ago.
She looked around, but no one seemed to be looking for a child.
“What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Matild.”
“Do you know your last name?”
“No… Mum used to say it, but I forgot.”
“How old are you, Matild?”
“Do you have any papers with you? A note? A phone? Anything?”
Matild shook her head, but then pulled out her little backpack and fished out a stuffed bunny and a half-wet packet of biscuits.
Júlia sighed.
This was not good.
“You know what, Matild? Let’s go over there,” she waved towards the small police booth at the station.
“We’ll ask the policeman to help you, okay?”
“I can’t go with strangers,” the little girl said softly.
“Then you’re lucky,” Júlia smiled.
“I’m a teacher. I’m not a stranger. And I’m not alone.”
At that, she pulled out her business card, which she had still kept behind her conference badge.
“Here, this is me. We’re going together, and we’ll figure out where your parents are. Does that sound okay?”
Matild hesitated, then nodded.
And so began quite an unusual day in the heart of Budapest, a story no one expected – especially not a seven-year-old girl and a tired, but brave teacher.
The atmosphere in the police booth wasn’t exactly friendly.
The neon light hummed, and the officer behind the counter, Zoltán Németh, was sipping his coffee and staring at the monitor when Júlia and Matild walked in.
“Good afternoon,” Júlia spoke firmly.
“I found a little girl at the station, she’s been here alone since the morning.”
Zoltán set his cup down, stood up, and immediately switched to official mode.
“Is this serious?” he asked, pulling out his notebook.
“Very much so,” Júlia nodded.
“She says a man and a woman left her here, they promised to come back, but it was four or five hours ago.”
The little girl stood quietly, twisting the ears of her stuffed bunny.
“What’s your name, sweetie?” Zoltán asked kindly.
“Matild.”
“And your last name?”
“I don’t know… maybe… maybe Márkus?”
Júlia’s head shot up.
“You just said that for the first time.”
“It just came to me,” the little girl answered softly.
“Mum always said, ‘Márkus Matild, come here!'”
Zoltán nodded, and started typing.
“Alright. I’ll check the database to see if there’s any reported missing person or wanted individual. In the meantime, please have her sit here, I’ll bring her some tea.”
A few minutes later, he returned with a cup of lemon tea.
Matild politely thanked him and began sipping.
Meanwhile, Júlia watched anxiously.
“Have you heard anything like this before?” she asked quietly, turning to Zoltán.
“That someone would just leave a child like this?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” the officer nodded.
“But it’s also possible something went wrong. An accident. The parents could have been kidnapped. Or…” he shook his head.
“I’d rather not speculate.”
“I have a relative in the downtown area,” Matild suddenly spoke up.
“My grandma, Aunt Mária. But I don’t know where she lives. I only know she has a black cat, and she always says, ‘Don’t come running at me suddenly, Matildka!'”
Zoltán smiled faintly.
“Well, that’s something. Let’s try that. I’ll also call child protection, but in the meantime, it’d be good if she didn’t have to sit here for hours.”
“Can I take her with me?” Júlia asked.
“Just for a few hours, until we figure something out. I’m a teacher, I have a moral certificate.”
Zoltán hesitated, but then nodded.
“Alright. I’ll write down her details and request a temporary guardian certificate. But if anything suspicious happens, call me immediately.”
An hour later, Júlia and Matild were sitting in an apartment in Zugló.
The spring sun had come out again, and on the kitchen table, cocoa, toast, and half an orange were waiting for the little girl.
“What will happen to me now?” Matild asked, swinging in the chair.
“We’ll figure it out together,” Júlia replied.
“Tomorrow, we’ll pop into a school too, so they can have a look at you. Then maybe someone will come forward.”
“And if not?”
Júlia smiled.
“Then we’ll search. And we won’t give up.”
Matild nodded.
For the first time, something sparkled in her eyes: trust.
However, just then, the phone rang.
“Hello? Yes, Tordai Júlia. What? Uh-huh… What did the woman who came to the police station say?”
Júlia turned pale and looked at Matild.
“Matild, someone says she’s your mother.”
The little girl narrowed her eyes.
She spoke in a completely different tone than before:
“She’s not my mum. She… she’s the man’s girlfriend who brought me. Don’t leave me alone with her. Please.”
Júlia put down the phone.
Her heart was pounding.
“Matild, are you sure about what you’re saying?” she asked carefully.
“The woman claimed to be your mother, and that you went missing yesterday afternoon.”
The little girl shook her head.
“She’s not my mum! The man and the woman… they always shouted. The man said they only had to go somewhere for one night, then they never came back.”
“And your real mum? What do you know about her?”
“I only heard her voice on the phone once. She said I should take care of myself. But then the woman took the phone and I never spoke to her again.”
Júlia’s throat tightened.
It was obvious: something dark was behind all this.
She immediately called Zoltán Németh back at the police station.
“Hello, Zoltán? Did you speak with the woman who claimed to be Matild’s mother?”
“Yes, she’s here with us. But something’s off. We checked the central database, and she’s not registered as having a child. She’s referring to an ex-partner who is actually wanted for fraud.”
“Then please, don’t let her go! Matild is afraid of her.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve already initiated proceedings, and a guardian agent is on the way. But there’s a development… a woman has come forward from the 17th district. She says she’s Matild’s grandmother. And she has a photo, an old vaccination book, and a file.”
“Her name wouldn’t happen to be Márkus Mária, would it?”
“Yes, indeed. How do you know?”
Júlia smiled.
“Matild remembered her. The black cat too.”
An hour later, there was a knock on Júlia’s door.
A woman in her sixties stood on the threshold, holding an old album and a stuffed bunny’s partner.
“Good afternoon. I’m Márkus Mária. Matild… Matild is my granddaughter.”
Her voice cracked.
“My daughter… her mother… went missing two years ago. The police think she went abroad. Since then, I’ve been trying to find the little one, but all traces have disappeared.”
Júlia stepped back.
“Please come in.”
Mária entered.
In the living room, Matild was coloring a drawing, but when she saw the woman, she lifted her head.
For a moment, they just stared at each other.
Mária kneeled down in front of her, took out the bunny.
“Do you remember this? There were two of them. We always left one with you.”
Matild rushed over and hugged the woman.
“You’re my real grandma. Aunt Mária.”
In the following days, events moved quickly.
The child protection service temporarily appointed Márkus Mária as Matild’s guardian.
Júlia helped with the proceedings as a witness and checked on the little girl every day.
A week later, on Sunday afternoon, May 17th, Júlia received a call.
“Hi, this is Matild! I wanted to ask… can I come to your school tomorrow? I still want to learn with you!”
Júlia smiled, her eyes filling with tears as she replied:
“Of course, Matildka. There will always be a place for you in my class.”
And maybe in her heart as well.
