Little Rara had been waiting patiently at first, her tiny hands twitching as she looked around for daddy. But minutes felt like hours to her hungry little belly, and patience quickly turned into frustration. When the bottle of milk didn’t arrive in time, her cries burst out sharp and loud, echoing through the room.
Her small body shook with anger, her arms flailing as if to demand, “Where is my milk? Why are you late?” The cries grew so intense that they looked almost like a seizure—her tiny chest heaving, her face scrunching up in red fury, and her legs kicking helplessly against the floor.
Daddy rushed in, startled by the heartbreaking scene. His heart ached to see his baby girl trembling with so much anger and hunger. He hurried to prepare the warm milk, whispering softly to calm her, though Rara’s cries didn’t stop until the bottle touched her lips.
The moment she latched on, her sobs eased into soft gulps. The tension in her tiny body began to melt away as the warm milk filled her stomach. Her little hands gripped daddy’s fingers tightly, as if punishing him and thanking him all at once.
Daddy kissed her damp forehead, whispering, “I’m sorry, baby. I won’t be late again.” Slowly, Rara’s eyes softened, her cries turning into soft hiccups until finally, peace returned.
For a tiny life like hers, hunger was the greatest fear. But in daddy’s arms, with love and milk to soothe her, she found comfort again. The anger was forgotten, replaced by the calm rhythm of trust.
