The morning sun shone brightly over the small village, bringing warmth and life to the little wooden house.
Kiaan, now just over one year old, was full of energy again. His tiny feet pattered across the floor as he explored, pulling at everything within reach. Today, he had set his sights on Mi‑un's small bookshelf, wobbling dangerously toward it.
"Kiaan! Don't—stop—wait!" Mi‑un shouted, running toward him with outstretched arms.
The baby paused for a moment, looked at her, and with a small, sheepish smile said:
"Sorry…"
Mi‑un froze, surprised. Her heart softened instantly, and she laughed despite the fear. "You… you said sorry? Oh, you little genius!"
Kiaan clapped his hands happily, proud of himself. But just as Mi‑un relaxed, he crawled toward a low table, knocking over a cup. Water spilled, and she gasped, running to prevent him from slipping.
"You little troublemaker! I swear, one day you'll give me a heart attack!" she exclaimed, brushing off her wet clothes.
Kiaan looked up at her, concerned, then toddled closer and gently touched her cheek, making a tiny cooing sound, as if trying to make her laugh. And indeed… she did.
---
By mid-morning, Mi‑un decided it was time for Kiaan's first mini-adventure outside the village. She held his hand carefully as they walked along a narrow dirt path lined with green trees and small flowering plants.
Kiaan stumbled, tripped, and even fell a few times—but every time, he looked at Mi‑un with a little giggle, saying, "Sorry…" if she shouted or looked worried. And if she pouted or got worried, he would clap his hands and babble silly sounds, trying to make her smile.
Mi‑un laughed, sometimes shaking her head in disbelief. "You are impossible, Kiaan… but I can't stay mad at you."
Village children watched curiously as the duo passed by. Some joined in, holding Kiaan's hands, helping him balance, laughing with him. The adults smiled quietly, appreciating how the little family had found its rhythm—chaotic, joyful, and full of life.
---
As the day went on, Kiaan discovered a small stream nearby. He reached for the water, splashing his hands with delight. Mi‑un watched nervously, heart pounding.
"Kiaan! Be careful! Don't—!"
He paused, looked at her, and said softly, "Sorry…" with a grin. Then, splashing again, he laughed uncontrollably, and somehow… Mi‑un laughed too, despite herself, wiping her tears of panic.
Later, when he tired, he crawled into her lap, resting his head on her chest. Mi‑un brushed his hair back gently, whispering softly, "You tiny troublemaker… you make me crazy, but I love you more than anything."
Kiaan responded with a tiny babble, as if agreeing. And in that small, sunlit space by the stream, the bond between mother and child grew stronger. Playful chaos, little apologies, and laughter filled the air—a per
fect, messy, joyful world of their own.