Every morning, Cubis wakes up and looks toward the door with hope in his eyes. He scans the room, searching for the familiar footsteps, the warm voice, and the strong arms that always scooped him up with love. But the house is a little quieter nowā¦ because Dad isnāt home yet.
Cubis doesnāt understand time the way we do. To him, a minute can feel like an hour, and a day feels like forever. All he knows is that Dad left with a bag and a wave, and since then, things havenāt felt the same. The moment the door closes, Cubis curls up in Dadās favorite chair, wrapping his little arms around one of Dadās old shirts, breathing in the scent that still lingers.
He waits by the window in the late afternoon, eyes following every car that passes. Sometimes, his ears perk up at distant footsteps, thinkingāmaybe thatās him. He rushes to the door, only to return slowly to his corner when it isnāt. The look in his eyes says it all: Where are you, Dad?
Even with love from Auntie and the comfort of his toys, Cubis canāt help but feel that empty space in his heart. He misses the way Dad would toss him a banana treat, chase him playfully through the living room, and rock him to sleep while humming softly.
But Cubis is strongāand patient. He knows deep down that Dad always comes back. So, he waits. He watches. And he holds onto hope with every heartbeat.
Sometimes, heāll sit quietly, looking at old pictures of the two of them together, or curl up next to a video playing Dadās voice. His tail flicks softly, his eyes blinking slowly, as if whispering, Hurry home, I miss you.
Because no matter how long it takes, Cubisās love never fades. Heās just waitingāfaithfully and sweetlyāfor the day his dad walks back through that door. š¾š
