The afternoon sun filtered softly through the window, casting warm light across the room where little Yuri sat quietly. Her big, round eyes followed every movement of her mother, but there was a hint of sadness in them today. For most of the day, Yuri’s tiny hands had been gently taped — a precaution to keep her from scratching at a healing wound.
At first, Yuri didn’t understand why her freedom was taken away. She tried pulling at the tape, wriggling her fingers, and even rubbing them against her leg, but nothing worked. Frustration soon turned into a soft whimper, and then into long, pitiful cries. Mom could hear the sadness in her voice, but she also knew it was for Yuri’s own good.
Now, as the day drew to a close, Mom knelt beside her and slowly peeled the tape away. Yuri flinched slightly at the feeling, but her little hands were finally free. She stretched her fingers wide, curling them again as if testing their movement.
Mom’s heart ached seeing how relieved Yuri looked. She gently scooped her up, hugging her close and whispering, “I’m sorry, baby. I know you didn’t like it, but Mommy just wanted to keep you safe.” Yuri rested her head against Mom’s shoulder, her earlier sadness melting into the comfort of the embrace.
To make up for the long day, Mom brought Yuri her favorite soft blanket and a warm bottle of milk. As Yuri drank, her little tail twitched contentedly, and the room was filled with the sound of her happy gulping.
Before long, she drifted into sleep, her tiny hands relaxed against Mom’s chest — finally free, finally comforted, and knowing she was deeply loved.
