Lala sat quietly in her corner, her once-bright eyes now dull and clouded. The medicine stung, the world looked blurry, and shadows seemed to dance where light used to be clear.
She blinked hard, trying to see Mom’s face clearly—but everything was fuzzy. Panic began to grow inside her tiny chest.
She whimpered softly and rubbed her eyes, confused and scared. “Why can’t I see properly?” her body seemed to ask. A sudden fear crept in—What if I never see again?
Lala let out a heartbreaking cry and buried her face in her blanket.
Mom Lan Anh, who had been sitting beside her this whole time, immediately pulled her into her arms. “Lala… it’s okay, I’m right here,” she whispered, voice shaking.
But when she saw Lala trembling and refusing to lift her head, the weight of fear became too much—even for Mom.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she held Lala tighter. “Don’t be afraid, my love. You won’t go blind. We’re doing everything we can. You’re not alone.”
Lala looked up, struggling to focus—but she could feel Mom’s tears land softly on her fur.
That moment was quiet, raw, and full of emotion. A small pup, afraid of the unknown. A mother, broken-hearted to see her child suffer.
Mom wiped her tears and said firmly, “You’re strong, Lala. We’ll fight this together. I believe in you.”
Slowly, Lala rested her head against Mom’s chest, comforted by her heartbeat and warmth.
Even in fear, even in pain, she still felt safe.
Because love doesn’t need perfect vision—it’s felt, deeply, in every hug, every whisper, and every tear shared.
