Morning should have been gentle, but fear arrived instead. Chamroeun bounced with wild energy, unaware of his strength, while Luna sat quietly near the mat. One sudden movement, one sharp stare, and Luna froze. Her tiny body trembled as confusion rushed through her. She did not understand anger, only safety. Chamroeun stepped closer, curious, playful, too loud. Luna squeaked, a thin sound full of panic, and crawled backward, eyes wide and wet.
The room changed instantly. Luna’s breath shook, her chest rising fast, her hands clutching the floor. She searched for comfort, for mom, for anything familiar. Chamroeun finally noticed. His excitement faded, replaced by stillness. He tilted his head, not knowing he had caused fear. He reached out, then stopped, sensing something broken between them.
Mom hurried over, her voice calm but firm. She placed herself between them, lifting Luna gently into her arms. Luna clung tightly, burying her face, sobbing softly. Chamroeun watched, guilt heavy in his small heart. He had wanted to play, not to scare. He sat down slowly, eyes lowered, learning a hard lesson without words.
Mom stroked Luna’s back, whispering reassurance, while guiding Chamroeun closer with patience. She showed him gentle hands, slow movements, quiet respect. Chamroeun copied carefully, inch by inch, until Luna peeked out again. Fear softened, though it did not disappear completely.
That morning ended with distance, but also growth. Trust would need time. Chamroeun learned power must be controlled. Luna learned fear can fade. Love stayed, waiting, ready to heal them both. Slowly days would follow, filled with patience, shared space, and careful play. Small smiles returned, hands learned kindness, and trust rebuilt itself, gently, honestly, without force, without fear, until laughter replaced silence, and peace rested again between them, growing stronger with every quiet moment they shared together again.
