Baby Ronaldo sat on the wooden floor, his tiny body trembling with worry. Moments ago, his mom had stepped outside to take care of a quick chore, but for Ronaldo, it felt like she had disappeared forever. The house suddenly seemed huge and empty, and the silence around him made his little heart race with fear.
He looked around with wide, shiny eyes, hoping to see her familiar figure walk through the door. When no one came, his lip began to shake. Then came the first cry—soft, long, and filled with sadness. Ronaldo wasn’t angry; he was scared. Scared that Mommy had left and would not come back to hold him again.
As the seconds passed, his cries grew louder and more desperate. He shuffled forward on the floor, trying to move toward the doorway even though he still lacked the strength and balance to walk properly. His tiny body shook with each sob, and he stretched out his arms as if calling her through the air.
He thought about how warm her chest was when she held him, how safe her heartbeat felt, and how her gentle hand stroked his head. Without that comfort, he felt lost and alone.
Ronaldo cried with his whole body—the way only a newborn could. His small shoulders rose and fell as he gasped between sobs. His little fingers curled tightly into fists, his face turned red, and he kept calling in a trembling voice, praying Mommy would hear him.
Then, finally, soft footsteps approached. Mommy had returned.
The moment she reached him, Ronaldo stopped crying and melted into her arms. His head rested against her chest, and the shaking slowly faded. He wasn’t upset anymore—he just needed reassurance that she would always come back.
In his mother’s embrace, the world became safe again.
