In the quiet corner of the nursery, little Yoya sat with her toys scattered all around her. The sunlight streamed softly through the window, but her heart felt heavy. She tried to play—rolling a small ball, tugging at a soft cloth, nibbling at a leaf—but nothing made her happy. Every few minutes, she stopped, looked around, and let out a heartbreaking cry.
Yoya missed something she couldn’t explain. The warmth of a mother’s hug, the comfort of another heartbeat close to hers—it was all gone. She had friends nearby, but they were sleeping, and the silence made her loneliness even louder. Her tiny chest rose and fell quickly as her cries echoed through the room.
One of the caretakers peeked in, hearing her desperate sobs. They found Yoya sitting on the floor, tears streaking down her little face. Her toy lay forgotten beside her. When they reached out, Yoya didn’t run—she lifted her arms instead, begging to be held.
The caretaker scooped her up gently, holding her close. Her cries softened, but tears still glistened in her eyes. She clung tightly, pressing her small head against the caretaker’s shoulder, her body shaking from exhaustion and sadness.
“Shh… it’s okay, little Yoya,” they whispered softly. “You’re not alone anymore.”
Slowly, her sobs faded into quiet sniffles. The warmth of human touch calmed her trembling heart. After a while, she peeked up, blinking sleepily, and her hand reached to touch the caretaker’s cheek—as if saying thank you in her own way.
That evening, Yoya finally drifted to sleep, her tears drying on her fur. Though she still longed for her mother’s comfort, she was safe now, surrounded by gentle hearts ready to love her back to happiness.
