The soft sound of water filled the bathroom as little Bunny sat trembling in the bathtub. Bath time was supposed to be fun — warm bubbles, gentle splashes — but today, something felt different. The water rippled around her tiny body, and she began to whimper softly, her big eyes searching for her dad.
“Eee… eee…” she called, her voice shaky and weak. Her tiny hands clung to the side of the tub as her body started trembling harder. It wasn’t from the cold — it was fear. Bunny didn’t want to be alone in the water. The room felt too big, too echoey, and every sound made her heart race faster.
Her dad, who was nearby preparing her towel, turned quickly when he heard her sudden, loud cry. “Eeee! EEEE!” she screamed, her tiny body shaking in panic — a little seizure of fear, her tears mixing with the bathwater. He rushed over, scooping her gently into his arms, wrapping her wet body in a warm towel.
“Shh, it’s okay, Bunny. Daddy’s here,” he whispered, holding her close against his chest. Her cries began to soften, though her breathing still came in tiny, trembling gasps. Slowly, her shaking eased as she felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear.
Her dad rocked her gently, humming a soft tune, while Bunny’s frightened eyes blinked closed. The warmth, the scent, the security — it all reminded her that she wasn’t alone.
Within minutes, she was calm again, snuggled tightly in his embrace. Her tiny fingers gripped his shirt as if to say, “Don’t let go.”
That evening, as she slept peacefully wrapped in her blanket, her dad kissed her forehead and whispered, “No more tears, my brave little girl. You’re safe now.
