Baby Alan sat in the corner, his tiny hands gripping the edge of a soft cloth as he watched his caretaker move around. His round, bright eyes followed every motion, especially when the milk bottle was taken out. His little stomach let out a soft growl, but instead of crying immediately, Alan tried to stay quiet—watching, waiting for the perfect moment.
His lips trembled as he suppressed a whimper. He didn’t want to make too much noise yet, hoping that his caretaker would notice him without him having to throw a tantrum. But the hunger grew stronger, and his patience started to fade. He took a tiny, shaky breath and let out a soft whine, his voice almost hesitant at first.
Then, when no one responded right away, Alan’s sneaky plan fell apart. His small whimpers quickly turned into louder cries, his little face scrunching up in frustration. He stomped his tiny feet on the soft surface beneath him, wiggling his body as if throwing a silent protest.
His caretaker finally turned, amused by Alan’s dramatic yet adorable act. The moment Alan saw the milk bottle coming his way, his cries suddenly changed into eager little squeaks. His hands reached out, his mouth already opening as if he could drink the milk just by looking at it.
As soon as the bottle was placed in his grasp, Alan latched onto it with desperation, drinking as if he hadn’t eaten in days. His cries stopped instantly, replaced by soft sucking sounds and the occasional satisfied sigh.
His caretaker chuckled, shaking their head. “Sneaky little one,” they murmured.
Alan ignored everything else. Right now, his world was just the warm, soothing taste of milk, and that was all that mattered.
