Little A Tong sat quietly on the cool floor, his tiny shoulders trembling with soft hiccups. His eyes, usually bright with playful mischief, were now filled with tears—big, shining drops that clung to his lashes but refused to fall. He looked so small, so fragile, as if the whole world had suddenly become too heavy for his tiny heart.
Mom had only stepped away for a moment, but for A Tong, even a moment felt like forever. He stretched his arms toward the doorway where she disappeared, his little fingers curling and uncurling in desperate hope. A small whimper escaped him first… then another… and before long, his chest shook with a soft, heartbreaking cry.
When Mom finally returned, she found him still sitting in the same spot, lips trembling, eyes full of sorrow. He looked up at her with the saddest expression—
“Mommy… please…”
His teary eyes said everything his little voice couldn’t.
Mom knelt down and gently scooped him into her arms. The moment he felt her touch, A Tong clung to her tightly, burying his wet face into her chest as if he never wanted to let go again. His breathing steadied, but the tiny sniffles continued—quiet, emotional, and full of relief.
Mom stroked his back softly, whispering,
“Sorry, my dear A Tong… Mommy is here.”
Slowly, his tears dried.
Slowly, his trembling stopped.
Slowly, his little heart found comfort again.
With his cheek pressed against Mom’s warm shoulder, A Tong finally relaxed, knowing he was safe, loved, and never truly alone.
