Little Lulu sat alone on the wooden table, tiny fingers gripping the edge as if holding onto hope itself. The room was quiet, dimly warm, night settling beyond the window. Everyone else seemed calm, but Lulu’s chest felt heavy with longing. He didn’t want to stay there — not tonight. He wanted the soft blanket, the familiar scent of safety, the gentle warmth of Dad’s arms. That was where he felt loved, where sleep came like a lullaby.
Dad was nearby, busy finishing chores, unaware that every second felt like eternity to the little monkey. Lulu watched him move, eyes following like a lost puppy. When Dad didn’t come, Lulu’s lips trembled. His voice broke into a fragile cry — first soft, then louder, desperate. His cry wasn’t just noise; it was a plea drenched in emotion. Tiny shoulders shook, tail curled tight, eyes wet with loneliness.
He tried calling with his little hands, reaching out, hoping Dad would look over. But Dad was still occupied. Lulu’s heart sank deeper, and he cried even louder, letting every feeling spill out. The table felt too cold, too lonely. He didn’t want independence — he wanted love, comfort, a warm chest to snuggle into.
Finally, Dad turned. The moment their eyes met, Lulu’s crying softened, like hope returning. Dad walked over, scooping him gently into his arms. Lulu instantly wrapped himself around Dad’s neck, burying his face into his shirt as if he could hide from all sadness there. Dad rubbed his tiny back, shushing softly, promising safety without saying a word.
Lulu relaxed, breath slow and shaky, tears drying against warm skin. Soon they lay on the bed together — Lulu curled close, finally home where he belonged. And with one last tiny sigh, he drifted into peaceful sleep, knowing Dad was right there.
