Minea’s cry broke the air the moment she realized Yuri was gone. It was not a small whimper but a sharp, messy sob that shook her tiny chest. Her face twisted into anger and sadness together, earning her the nickname “nasty Minea” for the drama of it all, though her pain was real. She looked around the room again and again, eyes searching, lips trembling, hoping Yuri would suddenly appear.
She stomped her feet, slapped the floor, and cried louder, calling out in her own broken way. Missing Yuri felt unbearable. He was her comfort, her playmate, her familiar shadow. Without him, everything felt wrong. Mom rushed over, kneeling down, trying to soothe her, but Minea pushed her hands away, crying harder as if to say only Yuri could fix this.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking her shirt. Her cries turned hoarse, breath catching between sobs. Mom gathered her gently, rocking her back and forth, whispering that Yuri would come back soon. Minea shook her head, refusing comfort, anger flaring again as she remembered the emptiness beside her.
Minutes passed slowly. The storm inside her began to weaken. Her screams softened into broken sobs. She clutched Mom’s shirt, exhausted from crying, still upset but losing strength. Mom stayed patient, wiping tears, humming softly, letting Minea feel without judgment.
Finally, footsteps sounded nearby. Minea froze. Her head lifted. When she saw Yuri at the doorway, her crying stopped instantly. Her eyes widened, then filled with tears from relief.
Yuri came closer, and Minea leaned into him, clinging tightly. The nasty cries were gone. Only quiet sniffs remained. Missing him had hurt deeply, but seeing him again healed everything. That dramatic breakdown was not bad behavior. It was love and attachment from a tiny heart learning separation and trust slowly together.
