That evening, the house felt unusually quiet. Mom sat by the window, wiping her eyes gently. She thought no one noticed, but CUTIS had been watching from the doorway, his little heart squeezing with worry. CUTIS didn’t like seeing Mom sad—she was his sunshine, his comfort, his whole world. And tonight, her tears felt like rain on his tiny chest.
Slowly, CUTIS walked toward her, his steps soft but full of determination. “Mom… don’t cry anymore,” he whispered in his tiny voice, barely louder than a breath. Mom looked up, surprised, because CUTIS rarely spoke so softly. But when she saw his worried expression, her heart melted instantly.
CUTIS climbed into her lap and wiped her tears with his tiny hands. It wasn’t perfect—some wipes were too quick, some too gentle—but each touch carried all the love he had. He rested his head against her chest, listening to her heartbeat, as if trying to steady it with his own.
The baby monkey, who had been watching from behind the door, rushed over too. He wrapped his little arms around Mom’s leg, copying CUTIS’s comforting actions. Together, the two tiny helpers hugged her like they were protecting her from the sadness itself.
CUTIS then stood up, went to his corner, and brought back his favorite toy—a worn little plush he never shared with anyone. He placed it in Mom’s hands, offering the one thing that comforted him the most. Mom broke into a smile through her tears, touched beyond words.
“Thank you… my brave CUTIS,” she whispered, hugging both little ones tightly.
And just like that, the heaviness in the room lifted. CUTIS stayed close to Mom all evening, watching her smile return bit by bit.
He didn’t know what made her cry—he only knew he never wanted her to cry again.
