The moonlight gently streamed through the window, casting a soft glow on the familiar corners of the room. But tonight, everything felt different. Monkey Lyly tossed and turned in her little bed, her eyes wide open, her mind filled with memories. It was her last night in the house she had always known—the place where she had grown up, played, laughed, and found comfort in every nook and cranny.
The silence of the night was heavier than usual. The walls, once echoing with joyful chatter and playful shrieks, now stood still in quiet farewell. Lyly got up and wandered around, her tiny hands brushing the edges of her favorite furniture, the old chair she used to climb, the little shelf where her toys rested, and the spot by the window where she loved watching birds in the morning. Everything felt like it was saying goodbye to her, too.
She tiptoed into her mother’s room and curled up beside her for a while, seeking warmth and comfort. Her mother, half-awake, gently stroked Lyly’s head and whispered, “It’s okay, my love. We’re just moving houses, not hearts.” But Lyly knew it wasn’t just about walls and roofs—it was about memories, and leaving them behind was harder than she thought.
She walked back to her room and sat by the window, watching the stars. Her chest felt heavy, but deep down, she understood that change was part of life. Still, it was hard.
As the night slowly turned to dawn, Lyly finally began to drift off to sleep, the tears on her cheeks now dried, her breathing calm. Tomorrow would bring a new adventure, a new home, and new memories to make. But tonight, in the quiet of her beloved house, she let herself feel every goodbye, every moment, every memory—because that’s what love does. It holds on, even when it has to let go.
