Little girl Yaya sat alone on the cart, her tiny body stiff with fear. The moment Mom walked away, Yaya’s eyes locked forward, staring at the empty space where she disappeared. At first, Yaya stayed quiet, holding her breath, believing Mom would come back quickly. But as the seconds stretched longer, panic rushed in fast.
Suddenly, Yaya opened her mouth wide and screamed sharply. The sound was loud, raw, and full of desperation. Her hands gripped the edge of the cart as if holding on to hope itself. She leaned forward, neck stretched, eyes searching desperately for Mom’s familiar shape. Not seeing her made the fear explode.
Yaya screamed again and again, each cry sharper than the last. Her face turned red, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. The cart felt too big, too still, too lonely. She kicked her legs angrily, unable to understand why Mom wasn’t there. To Yaya, being left meant being abandoned, even if only for a moment.
People passed by, sounds filled the air, but nothing mattered except Mom. Yaya’s cries echoed as she called blindly forward, believing her voice could pull Mom back. Her chest heaved, breath uneven, body shaking with emotion. She wasn’t naughty. She was scared. Waiting felt unbearable for such a small heart.
Then suddenly, Yaya saw movement. Mom was coming back. In an instant, Yaya screamed one last time—then stopped. Her face changed completely. Relief washed over her as she reached forward with both arms, crying softly now, no longer in panic.
The moment Mom lifted her from the cart, Yaya clung tightly, burying her face into familiar warmth. Her sharp screams faded into quiet sobs, then silence. The world felt safe again. That day showed how deeply Yaya loved her mom. Her screams weren’t anger—they were fear of losing the person she trusted most. And when Mom returned, everything was okay again.
