Little tiny Mako sat curled in the corner, his small body looking even smaller without Mom nearby. The room felt too quiet, too empty. Time moved slowly, and every sound from outside made his heart jump. He waited, eyes fixed on the doorway, believing Mom would return any second. But seconds turned into long minutes, and minutes felt like hours to his fragile heart.
Mako began to cry softly at first, a pitiful sound filled with confusion. Why was Mom gone so long? He hugged his knees, rocking back and forth, whispering tiny cries that grew louder with every breath. His eyes became wet and shiny, tears rolling down his cheeks as loneliness wrapped tightly around him.
The crying soon turned into sobbing. Mako screamed, calling out in his own little voice, hoping Mom could hear him wherever she was. His hands reached into the air, grasping for warmth that wasn’t there. He crawled toward the door, then stopped, sitting helplessly as fear and sadness took over.
Caregivers tried to soothe him, offering gentle touches and soft words, but Mako pushed them away. He didn’t want comfort from anyone else. He wanted Mom. His cries grew louder, full of pain and longing, his tiny chest rising and falling too fast. Every tear carried one message: Please come back.
Finally, footsteps echoed outside. Mako froze, holding his breath. The door opened, and there she was. Mom. His scream broke into desperate joy as he rushed forward, stumbling into her arms. The crying stopped instantly, replaced by trembling breaths as he clung tightly, afraid to let go again.
Held close, Mako calmed down. His tears dried, his body relaxed, and his heart finally felt safe. That day, Mako learned how deeply he loved—and how waiting without love can hurt even the tiniest soul.
