Tiny Titas sat on the cold floor, his chest rising and falling with fast, shaky breaths. Just moments ago, he had been snuggled beside his mother, enjoying the warm safety of her side.
But now… she was gone.
She had suddenly stood up and walked away, disappearing behind the trees with no glance back. Maybe she needed space—or was simply tired—but little Titas didn’t understand.
To him, it felt like abandonment.
His eyes grew wide and teary. His lips curled into a sob. And then it came—a sharp, heartbreaking cry that echoed through the room.
“Maaa!”
His call was loud, filled with confusion and pain.
He crawled forward a few steps, looking around, hoping she’d come back. But she didn’t. He sat down hard, slapped the floor in frustration, and cried again, this time louder, more desperate.
Caretakers watched from nearby, hearts aching. One knelt down slowly, speaking softly to him. But he didn’t want them—he wanted her.
He cried so much his little voice turned hoarse.
But after a few minutes, the rustling of leaves caught his ear. Titas looked up, eyes hopeful.
It was her.
His mother returned slowly, looking calmer now. She walked over, paused for a moment, then sat beside him. Titas hesitated—but then rushed into her arms, burying his face in her fur.
She didn’t say sorry, but she held him. That was enough for now.
Because even when a mother walks away, the moment she comes back with warmth… a baby forgives.
And Titas?
