“Mom… open your eyes!” Monkey Lyly cried, her tiny hands trembling as she gently shook her mother’s still body. The bright morning sun filtered through the treetops, painting golden patterns on the forest floor, but none of it could lift the fear from Lyly’s heart.
She had woken early, hoping to surprise her mother with a bouquet of fresh jungle flowers. But when she returned, she found her lying motionless near the base of their favorite tree. Her chest rose and fell ever so slightly, but her eyes remained closed.
“Mom, please,” Lyly whimpered. “What’s wrong?”
She glanced around in panic, hoping to see someone—anyone—who could help. She spotted Grandpa Moku swinging through the vines in the distance and shouted, “Grandpa! Help! Something’s wrong with Mom!”
Moku was there in an instant. His old eyes widened when he saw the scene.
“She’s exhausted, Lyly,” he said gently, checking her breathing. “She’s just very tired. Your mother stayed up all night watching over you during the storm.”
Lyly blinked, tears filling her eyes. “She didn’t tell me…”
“She never would,” Moku smiled kindly. “Mothers rarely do. They just protect, quietly, fiercely.”
Lyly sat beside her mother, holding her hand. “I’ll stay here,” she said softly. “I’ll watch over her now.”
As the day passed, Lyly brought water from the stream, fanned her mother with broad leaves, and whispered stories of their favorite adventures. Birds sang above, and the jungle slowly came to life with its usual rhythm. Finally, as the sun began to set, her mother stirred.
“Lyly…?” she murmured weakly.
Lyly jumped up. “Mom! You’re awake!”
Her mother smiled faintly. “Why are you crying, little one?”
“Because I was scared… but I stayed strong, just like you.”
Her mother pulled her close. “You did well, my brave girl.”
From that day on, Lyly understood—love wasn’t just in the hugs and lullabies. Sometimes, it was in quiet sacrifice, and in the gentle strength of watching over someone you love.
