Monkey A Tong held his bottle tightly, both small hands wrapped around it like treasure. The warm milk inside was his comfort, his calm, his happiness. He had waited patiently for it, his tummy aching, his heart already feeling tired from the day.
Then it happened.
Brother TanTan came closer—too close. Before A Tong could react, TanTan grabbed the bottle and pulled it away. In one shocking second, the warmth disappeared from A Tong’s hands. His eyes widened in disbelief. His mouth opened, but no sound came out at first. His heart cracked before his voice did.
Then the anger exploded.
A Tong screamed loudly, his face turning red as tears rushed down his cheeks. He reached out desperately, trying to grab his bottle back, but TanTan held it higher, confused, not fully understanding the damage he had done. To A Tong, it felt like betrayal.
That bottle wasn’t just milk.
It was safety.
It was comfort.
It was his.
A Tong stomped his feet, crying angrily, his whole body shaking with emotion. His cries were sharp and broken, full of hurt more than rage. He looked toward Mom, eyes begging for justice, for help, for someone to see how badly his heart hurt.
TanTan finally noticed the tears. He froze, bottle still in his hands, unsure what to do. The room felt heavy with tension and sadness. A Tong collapsed onto the floor, sobbing hard, feeling small and powerless.
Mom rushed in immediately. She understood at once. She took the bottle gently from TanTan and knelt beside A Tong. She spoke softly, her voice calm, full of reassurance. When she placed the bottle back into A Tong’s hands, he clutched it tightly, still crying, afraid it might disappear again.
Mom hugged him close. A Tong’s cries slowly softened into sniffles. His heart still ached, but warmth returned with every sip.
TanTan watched quietly, learning a lesson without words.
That day, A Tong learned how deeply loss can hurt—even when it’s small. And TanTan learned that love means respecting what comforts another heart.
