The morning felt different the moment Cubis woke up. The room was quiet, too quiet. Usually, Dad’s footsteps and cheerful voice filled the house, but today there was nothing—only silence. Cubis climbed down from his favorite spot and searched every corner, calling out softly. When Dad didn’t appear, confusion quickly turned into hurt. In Cubis’s heart, it felt like Dad had abandoned him.
When Dad finally returned later that day, Cubis’s emotions burst like a storm. He crossed his tiny arms, turned his face away, and refused to look at him. Every attempt Dad made to get closer was met with a dramatic head turn or an angry squeak. Even Dad’s favorite tricks and snacks couldn’t break through Cubis’s wall of frustration. Cubis felt betrayed, and he wanted Dad to know it.
Mom watched quietly from the side, understanding both sides of the story. Dad hadn’t meant to leave Cubis alone; an emergency had forced him away unexpectedly. But Cubis didn’t know that. To him, all he felt was the long wait and the fear of being left behind. His anger wasn’t loud—it was deep and stubborn.
Dad sat on the floor at Cubis’s level, speaking softly, apologizing again and again. He placed a small toy between them, one Cubis loved dearly, but Cubis pushed it away. He refused to be hugged, refused to forgive. His back stayed turned, his tail flicking in quiet protest.
Time passed, and the house slowly grew calm. Hunger and exhaustion softened Cubis’s anger just a little. When Dad carefully placed a warm blanket nearby and sat without forcing anything, Cubis finally peeked back. Their eyes met for a brief second.
That was enough. Dad stayed patient, showing love without pressure. Eventually, Cubis climbed closer, still pretending to be angry, but no longer distant. Forgiveness didn’t happen all at once—it arrived quietly, in tiny steps. By nightfall, Cubis was asleep beside Dad, reminding everyone that love may bend, but it never truly breaks.
