The early morning sun filtered through the leaves, casting golden shadows on the blanket where little baby Kira had been sleeping. Her breathing had been soft, calm, like a gentle rhythm. But as soon as her tiny eyes fluttered open, everything changed.
She blinked once… then twice… and realized Mom wasn’t there.
A pout formed on her lips.
Her little arms stretched up, fingers twitching.
And then came the first sound—a soft, high-pitched cry.
“Ee-eeh! Ehhh!”
It grew louder.
Desperate.
Hungry.
Kira sat up shakily on her wobbly legs, her tiny chest puffing with each breath. She looked around, her head darting left and right. No mommy in sight. Just the quiet rustle of morning.
She let out another sharp cry—this time with more urgency. Her belly rumbled. Milk. She needed milk. Now.
In the nearby kitchen, Mom heard it—that unmistakable “milk cry.” She dropped the spoon she was holding and rushed out, wiping her hands on her apron.
“There you are, Kira!” she said, smiling, already lifting the warm bottle she had prepared.
The moment Kira saw her, the tears paused.
The little monkey reached out both arms, eyes still watery but filled with trust.
Mom scooped her up and brought the bottle close.
The tip touched Kira’s lips and she latched immediately—drinking like she’d waited forever.
Tiny hands gripped the bottle tight, tail curled around Mom’s arm.
Within minutes, her tummy was full, her body relaxed, and her eyelids began to droop again.
Mom held her close and whispered, “I’ll always come when you call, little one.”
And in that warm embrace, Kira drifted back to sleep—her world once again safe, full, and loved.
