ChiChi had never experienced anything like this before. The motorbike stood still, but the sound, the smell, and the strange vibration already made her nervous. The moment Mom lifted her up and settled onto the seat, ChiChi’s tiny arms wrapped tightly around Mom’s waist. Her fingers dug into the fabric, holding on as if letting go meant losing everything.
As the motorbike started moving, ChiChi’s eyes widened in shock. The wind rushed past her face, and unfamiliar noises filled her ears. Fear rushed through her small body. She pressed her cheek hard against Mom’s back, hugging even tighter. Her legs locked around Mom instinctively, refusing to loosen for even a second.
Every bump on the road made ChiChi cling harder. She didn’t cry loudly, but small anxious sounds escaped her throat. Mom spoke softly over the engine’s hum, reassuring her with calm words and steady movements. ChiChi didn’t understand the words, but she felt the calm in Mom’s body, and that helped her breathe again.
Slowly, ChiChi began to adjust. Her grip remained strong, but her trembling eased. She lifted her head just a little, peeking sideways at the passing trees and sky. The world was moving fast, but Mom was still there. That was what mattered most. Safety lived in that familiar warmth.
By the time the ride ended, ChiChi was still hugging Mom tightly, but no longer shaking. She hadn’t let go once. When Mom stopped the motorbike and held her close, ChiChi finally relaxed, resting her head on Mom’s shoulder with a tired sigh.
That first motorbike ride wasn’t about adventure for ChiChi. It was about trust. She faced fear not by being brave alone, but by holding on. Hugging Mom tightly made the unknown bearable. And in that moment, ChiChi learned something important—that even when the world moves too fast, love can keep you steady.
